


All The Love

by fairlightscales



Series: 33 and 1/3 [23]
Category: Hänsel und Gretel | Hansel and Gretel (Fairy Tale), Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types, Snedronningen | The Snow Queen - Hans Christian Andersen
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Friends to Lovers, Hansel and Gretel Elements, Just love no angst, Love, Marriage, Mixtape, Rock and Roll, Romance, Ross and Dem, Sex, Snow Queen Elements, Street Rats, now that’s what I call music!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29365605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairlightscales/pseuds/fairlightscales
Summary: Romelza excerpts from the various 33&1/3 UniversesHappy Valentine's Day
Relationships: Demelza Carne/Ross Poldark
Series: 33 and 1/3 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420387
Comments: 22
Kudos: 12





	1. Why Don't We Do It In The Road

**Author's Note:**

> "Parties" Ross and Dem: Rock musicians, aged 26 and 16, who married in 1968.
> 
> "Currant Bun" Ross and Dem: As Kay and Gerda in a Poldark retelling of Hans Christian Andersen's The Snow Queen.
> 
> "Hansel and Gretel" Ross and Dem: 15 year old runaway and street musician Ross breaks 14 year old Demelza out of a girl's home, living as homeless buskers in Europe. They marry in Paris aged 18 and 17.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 of Why Don't We Do It In The Road  
> Parties Ross and Dem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time has come.

"What be wrong wit 'em?!" Jud despaired to Prudie in the kitchen.  
A strange mood had fallen over Nampara. Ross and Dem were moody, snappish, surly and quiet by turns. Prudie set a cup of tea in front of him. He took a sip as she sat down with her own. She began sugaring her tea.  
"They got spring nippin' at 'em too hard." she answered, sagely. Jud sputtered a bit as he swallowed.  
"Eh?!" His eyebrows went up. Prudie stirred her tea with her spoon.  
"Don't look so shocked. She be old enough. She be old enough and they both d' know it!"  
"T'ain't right!" Jud was surprised by Prudie's attitude. Prudie stopped sipping her tea.  
"It d' make the world go round." She snickered. " What you creenin' on anyway? You had at it wi' me and I not but fifteen!" Jud sat back in his chair and gave a wicked laugh.  
"Heh, heh, you was a mature fifteen..." They exchanged a look. Prudie resumed drinking her tea.  
"Mark my words, there'll be no peace 'til they do," she set her cup in her saucer and gave Jud a straightforward look.  
"They be spoilin' for it."

I. Let It be True

It was late. Ross was playing his guitar in the parlor. He was sleepless and agitated. His practice was giving him no satisfaction tonight...movement in the room. "Dem?" Ross looked at her as she entered and then averted his eyes to look at his guitar. The shadow of her nipples could be seen through her tee shirt, her legs bare and long underneath her skirt.  
"I couldn't sleep." She said.  
"Do you want to play?" Things were becoming strange between them. He'd asked her that hundreds of times, why did it ring so suggestive to him now? She crossed the room to retrieve the maple Gibson. She sat across from him at the other pew. The swell of her hips as she sat, her waist no longer angular.  
"The moon's full..." she said, absently. Is that why she felt so restless and strange?  
"Perhaps some fresh air would be a good thing." Ross said. They did not bother with their shoes. They left the parlor and walked through the house to the front door. The moon was huge and cast a bright light over everything. They settled on the benches outside, facing each other as they usually did but somehow shy about it tonight. Two guitarists who took pride in their ability to play without looking at their hands sat, primly, looking at their fingering. They were playing a Spanish piece they had been working on. Demelza looked up at Ross and wondered, was he shy for the same reason she was? She resumed looking at her fingering and had a think. She would dare, she thought. She started playing the opening to The Beatles, 'Something' and looked up. They were looking at each other now. Ross smiled, 'You little...' he thought. "You take the high end." he said.  
They began again, dovetailing their playing to compliment the other. Demelza took pains to play her best without looking like she was trying to show off. She wanted Ross to see that she had learned her techniques at his feet and had mastered them. Ross and Demelza looked at each other as they played. Ross felt strangely calm. That Dem chose the most romantic Beatles song was not lost on him. It gave him hope. He felt the tension between them and knew full well what had been eating at them recently. He resisted his feelings, having been her guardian for so long. But Demelza had given him an opening to pursue and a window to her feelings. He had no hesitation singing George Harrison's lyrics. Ross meant them. He looked into Demelza's eyes as he sang.

'Something in the way she moves  
Attracts me like no other lover  
Something in the way she woos me'

Ross' smile grew wider, wasn't he being wooed?

'I don't want to leave her now  
You know I believe and how'

They placed the cascade of notes that proceeded the next lyrics. Demelza felt over warm suddenly. She slid her fingernail on the string, like a bottle slide, as she played to accompany his ascending notes. Ross' eyebrow raised, he was impressed. She blushed.

'Somewhere in her smile she knows'

Demelza averted her eyes.

'That I don't need no other lover'

Ross plucked a clear note, like a bell, that startled her to look up again. He jutted his chin a little, his smile and eyes lit with mischief. She did not look away.

'Something in her style that shows me  
I don't want to leave her now  
You know I believe and how'

The ascending notes returned. Demelza took up the next part, singing in a clear voice to the moon, to the stars, to Ross, his eyes lit with a dark fire.

'You're asking me will my love grow  
I don't know, I don't know  
You stick around, now it may show  
I don't know, I don't know'

They played the stately, elegant break together and Ross looked at his West Country girl, this woman in front of him, this woman he had come to love.  
"Play D, Dem." he said. Ross changed his fingers to hold a different set of notes and like a magic trick, on his six string, with the help of Demelza's D chord, the opening chord of A Hard Day's Night rang out. They paused. Demelza's eyes widened with surprise and softened. The night became silent around them. The stars seemed to brighten around them. It was as if Ross had given her a bouquet of red roses. He had teased her with that Beatles chord, but he had honored her too. He smiled with pride. He was proud of her. Dem was a guitarist in her own right, having come so far from her beginnings. And, in the same way it took both of their effort to perform that chord, they needed each other. Facing each other, holding their guitars, their looks of admiration had subtly changed to that of open longing. Ross could admit to himself that he wanted her and Demelza craved his touch. Ross cleared his throat, blinked himself out of his reverie and nodded to her. They would continue. they resumed playing. Ross sang,

'Something in the way she knows  
And all I have to do is think of her...'

Demelza took off her guitar and set it on the bench. Ross stopped singing though he kept playing. She crossed the small distance between them and bent forward, over his guitar as his fingers froze in place on the strings. She gently pressed her lips to his. She looked down at him. He looked up at her. Slowly, he pulled the guitar strap over his head and set his guitar to the side. Demelza smiled as she started to step backwards.  
"You can't catch me..." she teased.  
Ross smiled as he stood. The grass felt warm under foot, how would it feel as their bed...? They exchanged very knowing smiles as she walked backwards and he advanced. She turned and skipped a little before looking over her shoulder, briefly, and then ran towards the Long Field. He laughed and a shiver went down Demelza's spine. Ross' laugh seemed to say "Oh, I'll get you all right..."  
They bound across the field and he caught her up and started kissing her neck. She turned and he kissed her face, her lips. He nudged her mouth open with his tongue and she sighed into his mouth as they kissed passionately, their hands strayed all over each other. Ross pulled off her tee shirt and looked at her breasts in the moonlight. She was a woman. Dem pulled at Ross' shirt and he helped her by pulling it over his head. He was a man. They pulled themselves out of their clothes. With the moon's glow upon them, they stood facing each other. Naked and needing each other.  
"Demelza."  
"Ross."  
They dropped to their knees and he lay her down in the grass.

In the tall grass of the Long Field, laying in a nest of their own clothes, drawing their fingers over each other's bodies, threading them through each other's hair, Ross rolled atop Demelza and began loving her again as the sun blessed them the way the moon had done. They would marry. Ross and Demelza would wed, but it was just a formality. They were true wed in the grass of Nampara. The moon, the stars and the sun were their witness, their choir and their priest.

II. Whatsoever love hath ordained it is not fit to despise

At Nampara, a door slammed. Giggling could be heard. Demelza burst into the parlor holding a guitar and clutching a hand full of cornflowers. She gasped and went rigid as Ross caught her about the waist and pressed his lips to her neck before he froze as he looked up. Seated on the pew by the hearth, facing them with her mouth agape and her eyes wide with shock was Elizabeth. Demelza dropped her flowers. Elizabeth's eyes were drawn to them as they scattered across the patterned rug at Demelza's feet.  
Elizabeth and Ross were a couple in a different place and time. Ross had kissed her and, occasionally, squeezed her in interesting places but they were gentry for all their Mod leanings. One did not soil the merchandise before it was bought. Elizabeth had assumed they would marry and she would know Ross' ardor in time. Ross would not have dragged her into the grass and carried on with her as he had clearly done with his little groupie. Elizabeth had ignored all the gossip around this girl over the years but the truth of it now was plain to see. Their feet were bare and filthy, hastily dressed, clover and grass on their clothes, in their hair, Ross had a flower stuck in his hair, for pity's sake... Ross stood up straight and pulled the maple Gibson from Dem's hand. He gave her a smile before crossing the room to set both guitars back on their stands. Demelza watched Elizabeth's eyes widen. She had seen the smudges of soil on Ross' elbows and forearms as he set the guitars down. Her eyes suddenly flicked toward her and she bore Elizabeth's withering gaze.  
Elizabeth looked at the girl, ginger hair in all directions, spindly legs, the shadow of her nipples through her shirt -no brassiere!- a little street girl, that's what people had said. Ross sent her to Hempel, of all places! Ross turned to face Elizabeth, who had unwittingly thrown cold water over something very beautiful. He thought of how different she and Demelza were. Elizabeth so cool and elegant. Demelza so warm and wild. Both women, but one of porcelain, fragile and translucent. One put put milk first so the cup would not crack from the heat of the tea. One of earthenware. Generous and sturdy. A Cornish cup full of promise and with a warmth one could feel as it was held in hand. These two women who held his regard...  
"Elizabeth." Ross was not expecting a visit and certainly not Elizabeth who rarely came to Nampara. What was she doing here?  
Elizabeth, who dared to see if Ross still fancied her, bored in her marriage and curious to see if there were still embers here, got more than she'd bargained for.  
"Hello, Ross. I thought I would stop by but I see I've come at a bad time." Ross bore her stern disapproval. She could not have believed all the gossip around him and Demelza but, clearly, she had seen enough today to change her mind. The fact that it had not been true until last night would hold no sway. They had been each others for a little under six hours and now a worm had crept in. The tittle tattle that made what had been lovely a little tarnished now. Elizabeth stood and started to pluck bits of grass out of Ross' hair. He closed his eyes as if he were being reprimanded and when he opened them they exchanged a look Demelza could not decipher. Demelza winced inwardly. Elizabeth felt free enough to do that, to have claim over him still and that Ross would stand so cowed by her. Demelza bit her bottom lip, willing herself not to cry. Elizabeth was a lady and she was a slag. She shrugged off that insult many times over the years but it was only now she had cause to feel it might be true. Ross felt Elizabeth's scorn of him. Her eyes were cold towards him. Elizabeth made a move to pluck away the cornflower Dem had tucked behind Ross' ear and he grabbed her wrist. He did not speak. The slight tilt of his head. Having accepted her censure up to this point, he made it clear she had now overstepped. A look of warning in his eyes. A look of derision in Elizabeth's. "It's wilting already." said Elizabeth, "Cornflowers are like that." He released her and she stepped away. She glanced briefly at Demelza again and the flowers at her feet...her soiled knees...'She'll last about as long as those flowers...' thought Elizabeth. Demelza looked to Ross, all wide eyed and pathetically grateful that he protected her daffy, little, half dead, cornflower...'It's too late,' thought Elizabeth, 'Too late for me to come here...'  
"I'll take my leave." she said. Elizabeth crossed the parlor with one last glance at Demelza, who had the grace to look as ashamed as she ought to. As she crossed through the doorway, Elizabeth pronounced her judgement upon them,  
"You would do well to have a wash," she sniffed, "You two look like a pair of homeless buskers."  
Demelza bowed her head, and looked sorrowful. The playful happiness they'd had, evaporated. Ross was incensed. He crossed the room to stand by her side. He leaned his head close to her, he put his arm around her. "No, Dem. Don't listen to her. Elizabeth is wrong." He nestled his face close to hers. He smelled grass and her skin and even himself on her as they'd kissed and caressed so much. She looked at Ross, wide eyed and so in love with him. She wanted to hold the magic of their night and forget Elizabeth's visit. Ross kissed her gently. "We should have a bath though..." There was mischief in his voice and she giggled. He was glad of it. He took her by the hand and they left the parlor. They turned into the hall only to be met by Jud. Jud who had known both of them from childhood. This was as close to being found out by a parent as could be for both Ross and Dem and they smiled sheepishly as he looked them up and down.  
"Lord above, the goings on!" He called out "Prudie!!" Ross hid his face on Demelza's shoulder, in her hair. "Oh god..." Ross complained. They were not going to get away with a thing. Demelza laughed and meekly waited for Jud and Prudie to have their say. Ross felt a bit rebellious as he heard Prudie's footfall. He lifted his head and stood behind Dem, wrapping his arms around her as if she was a possession he would not share. He gave a sidelong glance to her, cheek to cheek.  
"This is tyranny, Dem!" He narrowed his eyes, in mock annoyance, at Jud. "Why can't a man have it off with his woman in his own home without everyone else putting in their two pence about it?!" Demelza laughed and turned in his arms to hug him. He had called her 'his woman'. Prudie came in as Jud countered,  
"If 'n ee had yer woman in yer house instead of rolling around in the grass like them bloody hippies on the telly!"  
At that Prudie put her hands on her hips and gave a full throated laugh ending in a wicked cackle. By frolicking in the meadow with a vengeance, Ross and Demelza had exceeded her expectations.  
"What I d'say Jud Paynter! Spring got at 'em sure as eggs is eggs!" Ross kissed Demelza's cheek and rested his chin on her shoulder. Demelza ducked her chin and smiled. They both blushed a little. He had his arms around her and they looked very sweet. The Paynters looked at them fondly. Jud shook off his sentimentality, as if it wouldn't do to be seen as soppy. "Pah!" He gestured at them with his hand "What would Mistress Grace make of them two do you reckon?" Dem felt Ross go still. She turned in his arms to see him looking at Prudie the way an anxious little boy might. Ross was invested in the answer. Prudie grew serious, lifted her chin, looked at them this way and that. Then she smiled.  
"I reckon she'd say, 'He met his match.'" Ross closed his eyes and snuggled around Demelza tighter. Prudie had made him happy. Jud and Prudie tut tutted in a teasing way as they retreated to other parts of the house. Ross gave Demelza another kiss on the neck. "Shall we go upstairs?" Something in his voice promised a bit more than a bath. She retrieved the cornflower in his hair so it could be pressed between the pages of a book and smiled mischievously as she answered,  
"Ais."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?, The Beatles 1968  
> Why don't we do it in the road?  
> Why don't we do it in the road?  
> Why don't we do it in the road?  
> Why don't we do it in the road?
> 
> No one will be watching us  
> Why don't we do it in the road?
> 
> Why don't we do it in the road?  
> Why don't we do it in the road?  
> Why don't we do it in the road?  
> Why don't we do it in the road?
> 
> No one will be watching us  
> Why don't we do it in the road?
> 
> Why don't we do it in the road?  
> Why don't we do it in the road?  
> Why don't we do it, do it in the road?  
> Why don't we do it in the road?
> 
> No one will be watching us  
> Why don't we do it in the road?


	2. Sea of Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 of Why Don't We Do It In The Road  
> Parties Ross and Dem wed, June 1968

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When 19 year old actress, Diana Dors, married Dennis Hamilton at Caxton Hall, she forged BOTH her parents names on the form. Hamilton had informed the press of the event so there were press and photographers as well as fans outside. While they were waving and posing, the registrar tapped Hamilton on the shoulder and asked to speak with him. The official told him that they had received an anonymous phone call that the application was forged. Hamilton grabbed the official by the throat and said:
> 
> "You'll marry us all right, or I'll knock your fucking teeth down your throat."
> 
> Upon consideration, the registrar decided to ignore the telephone call and officiated the ceremony.

I. Going To The Chapel

Ross sat on the floor of the parlor, leaning his head back on the seat of one of the older benches by the windows. Demelza sat on his lap with her head nestled close to his neck. They had tasted every inch of each other and found it good. They had slept in Ross' bed, night after night, since their first night in the Long Field and found that good. Ross asked Dem to marry him, and she said yes, which they both found very good indeed. Much like the day four years ago, when they had come upon Ross after he'd kicked heroin, Ned and Dwight entered the parlor. Ross sat, in his boots and his jeans and his half buttoned shirt but, this time, they were brought up short by seeing Dem in his arms. Ned crowed, "Pay up, Enys!" Ross' mouth fell open as Dwight rummaged in his pocket and produced two pound notes that he handed to Ned while rolling his eyes. Ned laughed merrily. Ross looked at them in disbelief. "You had a bet going?" Dem started giggling and hid her face behind her hair. "Yep! And I won!" said Ned, waving the money over his head. Ross looked at Dwight, still shocked. "You thought we wouldn't?" Dwight smiled, "I thought you wouldn't before Christmas!" he gave them a wry smile. They all laughed. Dem turned to look at Ned and Dwight with a blush on each cheek as they smiled fondly on them both. "It's only right..." said Ned as he sat by the hearth, "...I don't think Ross would have approved of any other lad gettin' at her!" Dwight and Ned bent double laughing. Ross ducked his head and smiled. He deserved that. They weren't wrong. Ross recovered his equilibrium. "Miss Carne has agreed to let me make an honest woman of her." Demelza and Ross smiled at each other while Ned and Dwight clapped applause. "Congratulations!" said Dwight. "Aw, Dem, Mrs. Poldark! Good on ya both!" Ned smiled. So it was, after the prescribed period of 28 days notification, with an application on which they dared to forge Tom Carne's signature, a sextet of happy people walked toward Caxton Hall, in London, to see Ross and Dem made spouses in the eyes of the law. Caxton was a register office that had been the site where union rallies were held, the place where Winston Churchill held press conferences during World War II, the meeting place for suffragettes, from 1907 onward as they met and marched from that site to try to deliver a petition to the Prime Minister-always rebuffed. In 1910, Aleister Crowley staged six weeks of a performance called 'The Rites of Eleusis', but Caxton's rites these days were known for the weddings of many famous actresses and performers. Ross and Demelza were not, at this point, what anyone would consider famous, though Resurgam had a bit of success. Ross chose it simply because he had heard of it and he didn't relish marrying in Cornwall where they'd have to withstand a hailstorm of gossip in any event. No point in having their wedding at the center of the maelstrom. There would be time enough for all that after the fact. They would marry and celebrate without small minded talk about them, thought Ross. They approached the venue along with many of the other small groups of couples and their well wishers. Admittedly, the Poldark party was, perhaps, more eye catching than the others. Ross wore a dark blue suit but his dark hair had grown to a length that could not be considered respectable in more conservative circles. Dwight and Ned were also formally attired but had the faint suggestion of the rock musician in their mien as well. Verity, who had requested the help of her co worker, Andrew Blamey, an avid photographer, to take pictures for the couple, walked on Andrew's arm in a Foale and Tuffin paisley dress, long and in dark purple tones that brought out the prettiness of her eyes and the dark gloss of her hair in a somewhat Edwardian looking updo and dark green court shoes. Blamey's suit was dark green as well with his black leather camera case around his neck and carrying a collapsible tripod that looked a bit like a folded umbrella. They looked quite smart together. Then there was the bride. Demelza wore a long, ivory lace gown from a London boutique called Biba. It had a tall portrait collar, like a column around her neck with a long zipper down the back that was sewn in such a way that the teeth of it could not be seen. It had short, fluttery lace sleeves and skimmed down her body to the hem at her feet, at once tightly fitted, but a relaxed, fuller skirt cascading down. She had borrowed a handkerchief from Verity that was embroidered with bluebells, so that served as her 'something borrowed and blue' together. Her tights were her 'something old'. White tights that bore a smudge of dirt from Garrick's affection, obscured by the length of the dress, and her ivory court shoes were 'something new'. She held a small bunch of white roses. Dem had no veil but a rose was tucked in her hair with a bit of greenery around it. A fern frond and a glossy, dark rose leaf. Ross, Dwight, Ned and Andrew-not to be left out-had a white rose as a boutonniere. With Caxton Hall having such a reputation for hosting weddings of renown among the celebrity set, it was not unusual for freelance photographers to keep an eye on the place, in case there was a scoop to be had. As it happened, on this fair and pretty July day, with enough breeze to be pleasant rather than hot, a couple of photographers were present and intrigued by the small knot of posh looking hippies and took some snaps-just to be on the safe side. While they were inside, a quick call around had informed them that the groom was an EMI signed rock musician and his band's record was a modest success. They would wait to try and get better pictures as they left. They waited their turn inside with the other small groups, all with the same happy look of hope and excitement on their faces. Demelza and Verity sat on a bench as the men stood around them. They found it hard to make small talk. The expectation and waiting made them all quietly pleased. Ross and Dem were very smitten looking and the tension in their faces was borne of anticipation rather than fear. Verity smiled upon them. Initially surprised when Ross told her that they would marry, she was glad for them. Ross had been a difficult, lost soul when he returned from America and meeting Demelza had freed him to start changing for the better. He'd pulled himself out of the destructive path he seemed bent on following after her brother, Francis, married Elizabeth. Dem had given him hope and it was clear they loved each other. The marriage was no makeshift. Ross was taken with his young friend in a way that made Verity pleased. Demelza was lovely and they knew each other well. Many marriages had been built on less.

"Ross Poldark?"  
They turned to the voice that had called out. A clerk beckoned Ross over to him. Ross gave Demelza's hand a little squeeze and he walked with the clerk to an alcove in a different hall, still in sight but not within earshot. Their heads bent together. The clerk spoke to Ross in hushed tones. They could see a smile spread on Ross' face even though there was a look of annoyance in his eyes. Ross gently pressed his fingers on the man's shoulder as he whispered an answer. They watched in befuddlement as all the blood drained out of the clerk's face. They stepped apart and the clerk nodded 'yes' before scurrying away, back into the office he'd come from. Ross returned, amused by the five confused expressions that greeted him.  
"Is it our turn?" asked Demelza. Ross smiled.  
"Not yet, but it will be soon."

They exited Caxton Hall as Mr. and Mrs. Ross Vennor Poldark, as officially witnessed by Edward Despard and Verity Poldark with Dwight Enys and Andrew Blamey in attendance. Having chosen a nice portion of the building to pose against, Andrew set about photographing the newly minted married couple, first by themselves and then with their guests. In a move that could be seen as flirtatious, Andrew, plying Verity with compliments over her dress, insisted that there be a picture of just her, once he'd taken pictures of her standing with Demelza as a pair. Unbeknownst to them all, three freelance photographers surreptitiously marked the occasion as well. Having been tipped off by the other two, a fellow who often worked with New Music Express came along as well to get a snap.  
They had a sumptuous lunch in a restaurant and then went back to the flat where Dwight and Ned each provided a bottle of champagne, Andrew gave Ross a good bottle of brandy, with his compliments and Verity provided a small, two tier cake from a bakery-all white roses and swooping buntings of frosting with two guitar picks stuck in the top next to a small pair of plastic doves in a frilly little bower. There was a toast and cake as they played rock music at a discreet volume on a player in the lounge. Verity and Demelza brought their champagne into the garden as the gentlemen sat enjoying Andrew's gifted brandy in the lounge.  
"Oh, Verity...!" Dem leaned her head back in the garden chair, her heart too full to say anything more. Verity smiled.  
"I hope you will be very happy together!"  
They clinked their glasses. Dem smiled conspiratorially, "Andrew seems very nice!" Verity blushed a little and it made Dem happy to see it. "Yes, Andrew is very nice." agreed Verity. They clinked their champagne glasses again. Let us there be happiness and good luck for us all, thought Demelza.  
On the way back from the loo, Ned saw Verity and Dem chatting and having a toast of their own through the glass doors of the kitchen. He rejoined the others. "Verity looks a picture today..." hoping to get and receiving a bashful smile from Andrew. Ross' eyebrow raised. His lips twitched a smile as he nodded to Blamey and raised his brandy glass in his direction. Dwight, who had not caught the flavor of Ned's remark was more interested in Caxton.  
"What did that clerk say to you earlier, Ross?"  
"Yes!" said Andrew, "What was that about?"  
Having smiled long enough to gather their attention, Ross said,  
"Some very helpful, anonymous person called to say that our application was forged."  
"What?!" Dwight said. Ned and Andrew's mouths fell open. Dwight recovered himself.  
"You told him it wasn't?"  
"No!" Ross said, "I wasn't going to lie! What if they looked in to it more?" Ned was agog.  
"You mean to say it WAS forged?!" Ross gave a bark of a laugh.  
"Of course it was! Do you think I'd waste my breath asking Tom Carne's permission to marry Dem?!"  
"What did you say?' asked Andrew.  
"I simply told him that, if he didn't marry us today, I would punch his fucking face in." said Ross taking a dignified sip of his brandy. They fell about laughing. Ned wiped his eyes, he laughed that hard, crowing,  
"G'on, my son!"  
They clinked their glasses. Verity and Demelza could hear them as far as the garden.  
"To Ross and Dem!"  
The girls looked at each other. The party was breaking up. "I think we should rejoin the others." said Verity. Demelza nodded, but felt a little strange. She and Ross had slept together a hearty amount but this was the place were they first met and in some ways held more importance as the site of their first night as proper man and wife.  
The guests departed, with knowing looks and warm hugs. Ned and Dwight hugged and congratulated their Dem. Andrew gave her a kiss on the cheek and stepped back so Verity could say her goodbye. He would escort her leave. They agreed to have a meal together tonight. Dem suddenly clung to Verity as if she would not let go. Struck by the emotion of having entered this house as a little waif with Garrick in her arms. It seemed like a million years ago and just yesterday simultaneously. Dem was now a Poldark and the two people who meant the most to her were now her family. Verity rested her chin on Dem's shoulder and whispered "You are loved, Demelza." Verity kissed her forehead and gave her one last squeeze of a hug. She held Dem's hands and smiled as they stood apart.  
"Congratulations, my dear." she said.

II. Knights In White Satin

"Mrs. Poldark..." Ross was in his shirtsleeves and pants. The vest and jacket had been dispensed with when they got back home, hours ago, and now the tie had gone. They were alone. Dem had removed her shoes and tights and was wafting about the lounge with a glass of champagne, dreamy and happy and awaiting Ross who's footfall she heard on the steps. She realized with a start that she had never been in Ross' room in this house and her heart seemed to skip a beat at that fact. She offered him her glass of champagne and he sipped at it while looking into her eyes. He smiled.  
"Come upstairs, Dem."

She took his hand. He lead her up the stairs. She pushed open the door as the scent of candle wax curled around it. A no nonsense bedroom. Spartan. A desk with less clutter on it than the one in the library at Nampara. A clothes closet with a myriad of suits and shoes in one corner, so unlike his uniform of jeans and a shirt as she had come to know him. The remnants of his Mod past...  
On the floor by the window and on the desk were lit candles that made a mystical confused replica of their shadows on the ceiling. Strewn across the bed was a handful of somewhat dried Nampara cornflowers. "Oh, Ross..." her heart melted at the sight. She felt Ross' breath on her neck and smoothed her hair to one side to leave her neck clear. He gently pulled the zipper of the dress down, and down, and down her back. The two sides of the dress parted like angel's wings and he felt his heart skip a beat as he pushed the gown down off of her arms and down her hips and legs to the floor. She gathered up the dress and laid it over the chair of the desk. She had a cheeky flash of a thought that the stuffed wing chair in the corner of the room should remain free to utilize for a different purpose later... She stood in her underclothes and began to unbutton Ross' shirt. They had a rapturous, joyful look mirrored in each others eyes. Mr. and Mrs. She pushed the shirt off his arms and it fell away. Unable to resist, Ross kissed her and they remained that way for some minutes, and why not? They had all the time in the world...

The morning light slanted across the room through the curtains of the window. Ross lay on his side, watching Dem sleep. She lay on her back, lips slightly apart, her palm facing up with her fingers curled, reminiscent of a seashell by the bright mane of her hair. She woke suddenly, eyes open suddenly, towards the ceiling and then to Ross. He was struck by her gaze. A heavy lidded, direct gaze. She brought her right arm around to let her fingers play about his hair as she stared at him with the look of a hawk or a falcon. He had claimed her at Nampara and she would claim him in London. She curled her arm around his head and drew him in for a kiss. Ross wondered, as she lay him on his back, sheets twisted about her waist, her body rising above him like the masthead of a ghost ship, 'Is it possible to die of pleasure?' Could he lose himself in the sparkle of her eyes until there was no way to return? Was it possible to drown in a sea of red hair? He cried out as she settled herself upon him, he felt the bed cradle his body as she made love to him with a secret smile that made him weak with lust. She claimed her husband, as the bed creaked a steady rhythm and they breathed songs of desire. She raised her head, eyes closed, screaming her pleasure as he grasped her hips and thrust to meet her, both finding the end of their race and lay spent. Ross lay on his back, panting, holding Demelza to him as they dozed once more. Thank god, thought Ross, thank god one could die of pleasure and then be reborn so you could do it all over again...  
Having entertained themselves past what would be considered the breakfast hour, they had cake for lunch, or perhaps early supper. They lay quiet afterwards in Ross' tub-not the third floor tub where, years ago a heroin addict deloused a sleepy headed runaway, like a distant dream...  
Demelza lay nestled between Ross' legs in the hot water and they found it agreeable to simply rest there. If there was lust, there was also companionship. There was also the knowledge that the other was a friend. They linked the fingers of their left hands under the water. True wed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sea Of Joy, Blind Faith 1969
> 
> Following the shadows of the skies  
> Or are they only figments of my eyes?  
> And I'm feeling close to when the race is run  
> Waiting in our boats to set sail  
> Sea of joy
> 
> Once the door swings open into space  
> And I'm already waiting in disguise  
> Is it just a thorn between my eyes?  
> Waiting in our boats to set sail  
> Sea of joy
> 
> Having trouble coming through  
> Through this concrete blocks my view  
> And it's all because of you
> 
> Oh, is it just a thorn between my eyes?  
> Waiting in our boats to set sail  
> Sea of joy
> 
> Sea of joy  
> Sea of joy  
> Sailing free  
> Sea of joy
> 
> Going To The Chapel, The Dixie Cups 1964
> 
> Going to the chapel  
> Going to the chapel  
> And we're gonna get married  
> Going to the chapel  
> And we're gonna get married
> 
> Gee I really love you  
> And we're gonna get married  
> Going to the chapel of love
> 
> Spring is here (ooo-ooo-ooo)  
> The sky is blue (sky is blue)  
> Birds all sing (oh the birds all sing)  
> Like they do (yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah)  
> Today's the day (wah-hooo-oooo)  
> We'll say "I do" (ooo-oooo)  
> And we'll never be lonely anymore
> 
> Because we're  
> Going to the chapel  
> And we're gonna get married  
> Going to the chapel
> 
> Gee I really love you  
> And we're gonna get married  
> Going to the chapel of love
> 
> Bells will ring (ri-ii-iing) (bells will ring)  
> The sun will shine (hey hey hey yeah) (the sun will shine)  
> I'll be hers (yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah) (I'll be hers)  
> And she'll be mine (oh oh oh oh oh oh oh) (and she'll be mine)  
> We'll love until (we'll love until) (hey hey hey) (we'll love until)  
> The end of time (ooo hooo) (the end of time)  
> And we'll never be lonely anymore
> 
> Because we're  
> Going to the chapel  
> And we're gonna get married  
> Going (goin') to the chapel  
> And we're gonna get married
> 
> Knights In White Satin, The Moody Blues 1967
> 
> Nights in white satin  
> Never reaching the end  
> Letters I've written  
> Never meaning to send  
> Beauty I'd always missed  
> With these eyes before  
> Just what the truth is  
> I can't say anymore  
> 'Cause I love you  
> Yes I love you  
> Oh, how I love you  
> Gazing at people  
> Some hand in hand  
> Just what I'm going through  
> They can't understand  
> Some try to tell me  
> Thoughts they cannot defend  
> Just what you want to be  
> You will be in the end  
> And I love you  
> Yes I love you  
> Oh, how I love you  
> Oh, how I love you  
> Nights in white satin  
> Never reaching the end  
> Letters I've written  
> Never meaning to send  
> Beauty I'd always missed  
> With these eyes before  
> Just what the truth is  
> I can't say anymore  
> Yes I love you  
> Oh, how I love you  
> Oh, how I love you  
> Yes I love you  
> Yes I love you  
> Oh, how I love you  
> Oh, how I love you  
> Breathe deep the gathering gloom  
> Watch lights fade from every room  
> Bed sitter people look back and lament  
> Another days useless energy spent  
> Impassioned lovers wrestle as one  
> Lonely man cries for love and has none  
> New mother picks up and suckles her son  
> Senior citizens wish they were young  
> Cold hearted orb that rules the night  
> Removes the colors from our sight  
> Red is gray and yellow white  
> But we decide which is right  
> And which is an illusion
> 
> .


	3. Avalon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14 of Sympathy for the Devil  
> Parties Ross and Dem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Dem return home from Demelza's Warner Records signing party in London

They arrived home quite late. Dem was led, by the hand, up the stairs. She leaned against Ross who leaned against the doorjamb of the bedroom. Ross chuckled as he patted her cheek with affection with one hand and squeezed her hand gently with the other, as much out of love as holding her steady. "You're tipsy, child..." smiled Ross as Dem released his hand and continued on into their bedroom. "Indeed, I am not!" She regained her balance and walked with cool dignity across the room. But, as she kicked off her shoes and lay on the bed, Dem could admit that her head felt light as a helium balloon and she felt a delicious wooziness when she turned her head to smile at Ross in the doorway. "You are!" laughed Ross, lightly. "I wonder if its right to take advantage of a defenseless Warner recording 'artiste'! teased Ross as he closed the door behind him in a manner that suggested he had no qualms over doing so. Her giggling, her bright eyes sparkling, from excitement, mellow Cheshire Cat smile, tempered and yet heightened by drink as she looked at him from their bed had Ross smitten anew. He was charmed by his young wife and her new adventure, charmed by her tipsy 'come hither' look. She lay across the bed, still wearing her dress, a pretty, silk dress with a twinkling hem of sequins and pretty designs, embroidered in thin gold threads. A spangled black sheer layer over a violet slip dress from a boutique owned by one of Hugh's friends. Dem did not mention to Ross she had shopped there once before. She had bought the scarf, worn as a blouse on the night she met Blue from Eye Of Horace when they had their separation in '75. Dem watched Ross come forward, taking off his suit jacket, pulling the tie free of its knot, unbuttoning his shirt, divesting himself of his clothes and letting them drop to the floor in the languid manner of a man who would have what he wanted.

The party had charmed him. Ross saw that Hugh stepped back from the proceedings, much as Ross himself did, and watched Dem and Malcolm enjoy being fêted by their label, Warner. Enjoyed watching them in their excitement. Ross and Hugh even clinked their champagne glasses in conspiratorial glee over them, Red and Blue's friendship so buoyed by their happiness. Ross noticed that Hugh did not use their nicknames either. Hugh mingled as a producer this evening, let his position as bass player take a back seat to his managerial role. He spoke to the other sort of label head muckety mucks and executives with self assured amusement. The fact that he was a musician in this concern was a droll turn for him, for them. Hugh had ambitions for his little trio and his label were anxious to see if his continental arsenal of tricks could be deployed successfully in the U.K. Malcolm, resplendent in a suit Hugh insisted be purchased for him, and Dem in her elegant dress signed their contract with on looking executives in suits applauding and a happy look of satisfaction in both of their faces. In their new clothes they looked quite themselves but also given a lux sheen by their manager. A strange sort of muted, fashionable rock and roll. A "correctness" about them that seemed to enhance their style and... tame it as well. Ross was used to Malcolm's second hand shop shirts and Dem's fey, embroidered clothes. They were not much removed from their own selves in these new clothes. It was like them but very elevated. Ross wondered if Hugh would pull them into his conception of how to be or be pulled into their style instead. They tried to put the Rolling Stones in suits when they started... they rebelled, wore their regular clothes instead. Ross was amused to see Malcolm had lost the jacket from near the beginning of the night, preferring his shirt sleeves, and was still clomping about in his regular black work shoes. Dem wore her dress like a princess and like a girl running about a playground simultaneously, her elegant shoes removed and under a chair somewhere. Hugh might not get his way... Ross was often bemused by Malcolm and Dem being so joined at the hip, so often arm and arm. It was a better fit here, among all these label people. Ross was relieved to not have to escort Dem himself, happier to be able to watch from afar. He disliked these sorts of affairs and Dem so often blossomed in them. It was better that she had a co conspirator to wander about and enjoy this party with, enjoy their night without dragging him with them, closed mouthed and closed off, Ross' default at these sorts of things. Ned's gregarious personality smoothed his own band's reception, the few times duty called for this kind of thing. Resurgam had signed their contract in a faceless EMI office with little fanfare... And the music business was different then. An industry had built out of those earlier days. It was a well oiled machine these days. A machine that now had his wife and her friend in its workings...

Dem could feel her giggling reverberate throughout her body. Feel how comfy the bed felt underneath her as Ross stood naked with his erection wavering like some sort of divining rod towards her. Ross smiled. "You are drunk! Drunk on success!" He came near amused that she was amused. He drew a finger up her leg. "You must sit up, Dem. I don't want to be responsible for ruining your pretty frock!" Dem's smile had a wickedness in it. She turned her head to look at him, her body still prone across the bed with a cheeky grin. "You're so respectable now, Ross!" she giggled. "I should have thought you'd take me in it regardless..." He grinned. He divested her of her panties. "That could be arranged..."

Ross lay on his back drowsing. Dem curled near, still dressed in her dress and sleeping soundly after enjoying her party, after enjoying Ross attentions afterwards. Ross woke and turned to look at her. Her back was to him but the dress did not have a zipper visible. He frowned. "Dem?" She murmured. "Hmmmm?" Ross asked, befuddled. "How does the dress unfasten? How is it undone?" She flapped a hand at her hip. "The zip is on the side..." Ross felt about and found the pull that opened the dress. It was tiny and slender. The zipper opened and Dem yawned as she stood to take it off. The opening in its side made it easy to remove, over her head. Her breasts were always pretty. Ross watched her as her breasts were freed as the dress was pulled over her head. Dem dropped the dress to the floor, looked down upon him, in the wan light of the darkened bedoom. He had hung back at the party and looked at her and Blue with such pride on his face. He looked loving and proud of her, happy for her. He put up with the kind of formal affair she knew he disliked and still looked so happy. Ross had a toast with Hugh, clinked their glasses in friendship, he gave Blue a pat on the back and congratulated him in friendship. He looked at her with such love. He taught her guitar and gave her piano lessons. He taught her well and now she was a proper musician. She smiled in the dark room. Ross only just saw it before she sat astride him and concentrated her efforts on bringing him pleasure. A subtle change in her face, a seriousness in it as he shut his eyes in rapturous enjoyment of her attentions.

Dem lay over Ross in their bed, draped over him, his arms around her as they slept a quiet, purring sleep.

Dawn's light filtered through the curtains. They had the loggy sort of awakening that follows the pleasantries of the night before.  
"Are you asleep?" Ross said.  
"No." said Demelza.  
Then she moved and put her finger on his arm. He rose slowly and bent over her, took her face in his hands and kissed her on the eyes, the mouth, the forehead. With a queer, tigerish limpness she allowed him to do what he wanted. He gently removed the sheets, released her from them and gazed upon this woman who was poised to begin a new adventure. Smiled at her. His Dem. Only then did she put up her hands to his face and kiss him in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Avalon, Roxy Music 1982
> 
> Now the party's over  
> I'm so tired  
> Then I see you coming  
> Out of nowhere  
> Much communication in a motion  
> Without conversation or a notion
> 
> Avalon
> 
> When the samba takes you  
> Out of nowhere  
> And the background's fading  
> Out of focus  
> Yes the picture's changing  
> Every moment  
> And your destination  
> You don't know it
> 
> Avalon
> 
> Dancing, dancing  
> Dancing, dancing
> 
> When you bossanova  
> There's no holding  
> Would you have me dancing  
> Out of nowhere
> 
> Avalon


	4. Do You Want To Know A Secret?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 of Heatwave  
> Parties Ross and Dem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hijinks on a hot night
> 
> Demelza is pregnant with Clowance

The nights were just as bad. The heat did not dissipate. The air was heavy and everyone went to bed with a sheen of perspiration over them. Ross helped Dem out of the bathtub. It could not be much longer, Prudie had been watching her like a hawk all week. Dem's labor was often presaged by her swearing in a manner only Ross had the cheek to indulge in regularly. The oppressive heat and fatigue of feeling humongous made Dem let fly at teatime the other afternoon and ever since the Prudie kept an eye on her mistress. Dem felt she was not likely to give birth until her proper due date two weeks away but bore Prudie's surveillance with good grace. Now with the Paynters gone home until morning and Jeremy in bed, or sprawled across the limp sheets of his bed just as sweaty as his parents, willing the box fan set on a chair in his direction to blow cooler as he dropped off to sleep, Dem called to Ross for she was too ungainly to get out of the tub herself.

"Ross?"

He put his head round the door, about to ask if she was alright and then grinned. "Well, well!" he tsked with a smile. Dem had drawn a bath that was some inches more than was patriotic in the request to conserve water during the heatwave. "What would the Minister of Drought say?!" Dem, leaned back with her arm draped just so at the tub's edge, said primly, "He would say I am a good Briton for taking a bath with a friend!" Ross laughed. "Could you help me out, please Ross?" She averted her eyes. Ross was looking at her in the water and she always felt self conscious when she was pregnant. Ross knew Dem had what he considered needless embarrassment over her pregnancies. She looked darling with her bump so large and her legs and arms so slender. Her breasts were larger and her skin glowed from within, even in these punishingly hot days. Ross thought Dem enchanting but she never truly believed him. With a circumspect smile, Ross came forward and braced her back with one hand as he grasped her other hand firmly. She stood in a rush of water leaving her body and stepped out of the tub. Freshly washed against Ross who was sweating. "I think I'm mussing you up once more..." laughed Ross. She was damp against him as he helped her sit on a chair draped with a towel. She looked him up and down. Ross' pajama bottoms were wetted in streaks from her clutching him. His hairline glistened with beads of sweat. He smiled at her and their little friend under her skin. "I've mussed you!" laughed Dem. He looked down at himself as he gave her a towel. "Maybe it will cool me off..." Dem grinned to hear how wistful he sounded. Everyone dreamed of relief these hot days. They did not drain the tub. Dem soaked herself and scrubed herself with a washcloth but refrained from using soap. Ross would scoop out the bath water in the morning to water the lilac tree.

After she dried off they lay on the bed. Ross brought one of the box fans up from the parlor. It stood in a industrial hum on the dresser aimed at their bed, imposing in its metal, wire cage, so fast and vicious with its broad metal blades spinning. It was valiant and better than nothing but it only did so much. Pillows were abandoned as they seemed to collect warmth and compound it. The bed beneath them had a stale damp scent from their perspiration, the air skimmed over them but the relief did not last. Dem found it impossible to lie on her back and Ross lay on his back in a forlorn sweatiness. "I don't ever remember it being hot this long..." said Dem her left hand playing with the fingers of Ross right hand, the musk of his sweat somehow not unpleasant, a concentrated scent of her man. "I remember it being hot when I was thirteen..." said Ross, thinking. Dem blinked. If Ross was thirteen she would have been a toddler. She thought back to a photo of her with her mother, one of the few she could recall seeing. She had a knotted handkerchief on her head, protection from the sun, and sat in Mum's lap, smiling. Mum had seven of them... "Dem...?" asked Ross, ever vigilant at any change in her. Prudie swore Dem would "pop soon". Dem smiled wanly, she had been lost in thought but everyone was on tenderhooks believing she would have the baby as soon as a sneeze. "I was little then..." said Dem. Ross smiled. From Dem's vantage point she could see his smile, the sweat on his nose. He turned his head to face her, brushed his nose dry with his hand in irritation. No relief. He smiled at Dem. She had been twelve when they met. If one had a crystal ball, scrying a little kid crouching with a puppy in a grotty London alley would not have seemed like the singlemost good fortune Ross had ever known. His West Country girl. He said as much. Ross stroked Dem's hair reverently and whispered, "My West Country girl..." Her eyes blinked starlight at him, even in the darkness of the room. They stared at each other in the dark. Kisses were easier these days. Dem had relinquished the sharpest edge of her anger over Valentine. They had come to a truce in recent days. The deep whisper of his voice and the bright light of her eyes were like a lovecall, two creatures who communicated in a primal language of love. A smear of sweat at her brow, at his nose, the sheets catching the moisture as they both leaned nearer. Ross' hand at Dem's hair. Dem's mouth parting open in a soft capture of Ross' tongue. A kiss. To close one's eyes to the heat of the night, the smell of their bed as they wilted in the heat of the night, the heightened realization that man's power to charm could still be evident in that moment, so stewed in their own juices. Sweat did not matter between them. Musk served to bind them, so intimately bound that what was repellent in a stranger was a fascination in a loved person. Dem closed her eyes and felt her body in degrees of pleasure, registered degrees of pleasure. The baby was moving and that gave Dem happiness. Ross kissed her and that gave her happiness. Her loins twitched in a stark pull of lust. A secret happiness. The air from the fan was a teasing caress over Ross' skin and he felt moisture as he turned more to face her, at his thighs, at the mattress, the places the fan couldn't reach, the prickle of sweat at the base of his cock as he sighed into Dem's mouth. Dem's low moan brought a new urgency to their kiss. "Do you...?" whispered Ross. "Yes..." said Dem as she pulled at his pajamas, tugged at the waistband, touched him. Ross smiled out of their kiss. He pulled them off and tossed them over the side. Dem still was uncomfortable on her back but their were other ways. Damp from sweat, damp from desire, Ross explored his wife's body as she lay in a gentle twist, her thighs parting beneath the mound of infant and skin as Ross crawled further down the bed. She closed her eyes. Ross' forehead felt damp at her belly. A panicked thought that they might bring on her labor came and went. In his attentions, daring a pleasure that might summon the baby in its contracting grip she could not bring herself to cease them. He was gentle and insistent, Ross' tongue became a secret creature chasing what pleasure there was to be had in a secret place, a secret time. A wet rasp and insistent. A feast. Ross growled a little, stroking himself as she strove to be quiet but whined an ecstasy at his victory. Dem gasped sharply with a yelp. He brought his head up suddenly. "Are you alright?!" Dem answered somewhat cross eyed. It had been very strong. Dem's cry worried Ross for the sake of the baby but it trebled his erection. She nodded as she lay on the bed. "Yes..." she gasped. "Yes..." Ross sat up on his knees and watched Dem grin at him. Permission. With care he came round to settle himself behind her, so like a panther or a tiger stalking or pacing in a cage. His hair hanging limp in the heat in the confines of the four poster bed. His cock stiffened and buoyant in a brief glimpse as he moved around her in the dark. A beast of prey. "Oh God..." sighed Ross. Shallow. Wet and very slow. Careful. A permission in Dem's contented sigh, a rebuke as the baby kicked under his hand. Intense pleasure but impossible not to laugh. "They can't sleep in all the fuss!" laughed Dem. Ross chuckled and it dissolved into a choked moan. His care not to thrust too deeply was a boon. The sensation was gorgeous. He did not last long.

They lay still. Dem was too pregnant to want to do much of anything but the state of the sheets was too provocative to want to let Prudie see them. The sweat, the stale smell, the proofs of their activities. "We should put the sheets in the tub..." said Dem. Ross smiled at her neck and she giggled. She felt his smile. They were agreed. The sheets, so far gone anyway, were utilized to tidy themselves up and Dem put one of Ross' shirts on. Ross put the pajama trousers back on. The evidence of night heaped in their arms. The seeming reproach of the baby, encroaching on its rest. The furtive need to secret their goings on from Prudie, (Ross had the same misgivings. As pregnant as Dem was the Paynters might have disapproved of the state of the sheets, not found humor in it). The dark humor to be had in watering Julia's lilac tree with a slurry of her mother's bathwater, her parents sweat and her father's semen held no sadness somehow. Julia's placenta had been put under the lilac tree and like some ancient, pagan ritual they would water the tree in their essences. A wry necessity of the drought. An unconscious, reflexive Lughnasadh ritual, an offering to the land itself, like good Britons...

Like good Britons who would please the Minister of Drought, using the washing machine at night was prudent for it would not draw community water when it was most needed, the day time. Ross swished the stains clean and rung the sheets out as best he could. He carried them in a sopped heap as he followed Dem ambling down the stairs clutching the banister and rubbing what she believed to be the baby's back. It was awake and cranky. "Papa?" They both turned on the stair to see Jeremy blinking sleepily at them. "Can't you sleep, sweetheart?" asked Dem. "It's too hot!" complained Jeremy. "I was asleep and then I wasn't!" Ross looked up at him over the wet sheets heaped in his arms, small plunking drops of water escaping them, hitting the steps now and again in dark, round spots that lost their wet gloss as they dried. "Then help me with the wash, Jeremy. Pull the sheets from your bed. I'll come back up to help you." Jeremy smiled. Chores in the middle of the night were exotic rather than tedious and the idea of fresh sheets seemed like heaven. "Yes, Papa!" Jeremy scurried away. Dem went back upstairs to put knickers on. Ross brought the wet sheets to the washing machine. And waited at the bottom of the stairs to let Dem pass. In his shirt with the towels they had used in her arm as she loped down the steps all legs and belly on her way to the washing machine in the alcove by the kitchen. Jeremy, properly awake, looked over the banister rail dragging sheets behind him like a coronation robe. "Papa! I did it myself!" Ross grinned. Garrick's hair on the sheets from dragging the floor was probably inevitable. "Good work! Let me take them for the wash and we'll make up the beds with clean ones." smiled Ross. He bade Dem sit in the kitchen and shook out Jeremy's sheets. It was two in the morning. "Do you want tea, Dem?" asked Ross, starting the wash before dressing the beds anew. "Dem smiled from the kitchen table. "I think I want ice cream..." Jeremy piped up in astonishment. "ICE CREAM!!!! Now!?" Ross laughed. "Jeremy, help me make the beds and then we will have ice cream!" Jeremy bound up the stairs with a shriek of happiness so loud he woke Garrick who froze in a sleepy befuddled conundrum, follow Jeremy who was yelling with glee or see to his mistress across the room. "Garrick," whispered Dem. "Here, Garrick..." He trotted to sit by Dem and they waited for Ross and Jeremy to make up the beds with clean sheets.

Jeremy was a help, very good at putting pillows in their cases. Very good at bouncing on the beds like a trampoline and thus proving the beds acceptable in their fresh sheets. "Do you always have ice cream parties at night?" asked Jeremy. Being grown up was full of surprises. To have ice cream in the middle of the night was a habit he had not believed possible. Ross shook his head even as his eyes still followed Jeremy bouncing up and down. "We do not! Mama has never suggested such a thing and I have known her for many years!" said Ross. Jeremy bounced onto his backside with the flourish of an acrobat to Ross' applause. "Does the baby want ice cream? Did I ask for things when I was in Mama? I don't remember!" Ross smiled and offered his hand. "We must ask Mama, she would remember..." They went back to the kitchen. Garrick was asleep again. Dem had collected three teacups and three spoons and sat at the table in the kitchen, patiently, hearing Jeremy's excited chatter and Ross' responses, too far away to hear proper words but the give and take of the two of them, to and fro in both bedrooms, fetching clean sheets and making the beds. The silence of the house amplified the sound. A murmuring that was cheering to hear. A papa bear and a baby bear making beds. A mama bear dispensing ice cream rather than porridge and a new little one grousing at its naughty parents. They would join them and be a new voice in the house, a new person... "Mama!" cried Jeremy. Garrick, who would not be fooled twice, gave a snort of wakefulness and then slept once more. "Did I ask for treats when I was a baby?!" Dem smiled. "I seem to remember you liked milk very much..." Jeremy came to hug her as Ross rummaged the freezer. "No! When I was IN you, Mama! Like the baby!" Dem laughed. Ross came to the table bearing a tub of Raspberry Ripple ice cream. Dem laughed as she put her arm around Jeremy and Ross admired all three of them, in a night kitchen tableaux that cheered him. Jeremy and his little sibling surrounded in Dem's sunny veil of delighted laughter. "You often asked for chocolate, my lover..." Jeremy could well believe it for he liked chocolate very much. "I did?!" asked Jeremy. Ross' eyes scrunched in his amusement over Jeremy's query. Dem nodded. "Prudie warned me you might be born with chocolate drops instead of proper eyes if I kept eating so much chocolate!" Jeremy hugged his mother with a sense of satisfaction. Even inside her, she knew what he liked and strove to make him happy. Ross gave a generous helping of ice cream to each of them, somewhat defying the small teacups by cramming more on top. They ate ice cream that chilled them from within even as they were all a little sweaty again. It was a refreshing treat and the height of decadence. Cavorting half dressed, Ross and Jeremy in no shirts, Dem in only a shirt of Ross' and knickers, contriving an ice cream party, newly made beds and fans that would aim squarely upon them in the hot night after this happy rumpus of pleasure and chores found its end and a family who could survive their secrets good and bad, happy and sad, returned to their beds. The tinkle and clatter of all of them trying to eek out the last chilly drops from their cups with their spoons made Ross giggle. They were as greedy as each other, the Nampara Poldarks. Dem caught his eye and Jeremy crowed. "Prudie wouldn't like it!" As he strained to lick the last of his ice cream from the edge of the teacup, tipping his chin up like a man in a desert craving water. That this entire escapade began in Ross and Dem trying to secret their lovemaking from Prudie's attention made Jeremy's exclamation that much funnier. They had a good laugh. They were, all three, loathe to brush their teeth right away. To enjoy the creamy, cold, raspberry taste only to scrub it away at once seemed unfair. They sat Mama and the baby in the parlor and Jeremy helped Ross by handing him clothes pins as he hung the sheets on the line outside, still prancing about half dressed for bed. When all was fitty, Ross sat Jeremy on his lap to help him strum the black Gibson serenading Mama and the baby until the clock ticked quarter to four. Jeremy yawned. The race to get his teeth brushed and his feet clean before he conked out completely ensued. Ross took him upstairs and Dem put a pillow behind her back as she sat on the sofa. That helped her comfort as she sat but no sooner did she do that the sweat at the small of her back became evident. The sweet chill of the ice cream had gone. Ross returned. The smile on his face mirrored by Dem. They would keep these late hours with a more demanding task master soon, the son or daughter who would not know that the demands of the middle of the night or early morning were unreasonable. They had a last gasp of rebellion this night and a happy time with Jeremy who bloomed with excitement at his parents strange habits. "We may just avoid cock's crow. We're keeping the wrong hours!" smiled Dem. Ross grinned. "To bed?" asked Ross as he helped her out of the sofa. "Yes, Ross."

Prudie noticed many irregularities. The Poldarks, to a person, slept in, the lot of them snoring like a buzz saw in a hive of bees. Sheets were on the line and the ice cream she'd only just bought was decimated, only half remaining in a chopped out banditry, cleaved away in jagged ridges of cream and raspberry layers like a cavern in a worked out mine. Dem wandered into the kitchen first with Jeremy and Ross not far behind. "Morning, Prudie!" said Jeremy cheerfully. "Morning, Master Jeremy?" teased Prudie with the smile Jeremy always produced from her then turned her attention to Dem in a look of vexation. "Be more like afternoon!" Jeremy laughed as he mounted his seat and sat down. Prudie did not like it and Mama and Papa would earn a scold. He had a front row seat. Ross, Dem and Prudie shared a look. Ross pulled Dem's chair so she could sit. "Good... afternoon? Prudie..." smiled Ross. She scrutinized Ross' angelic blinking. "And wha be the goings on here!? Lyin' abed til this hour?" Ross and Dem and, most interestingly, Jeremy all smiled at Prudie as if butter wouldn't melt and telling no tales. She looked between them all and turned to Dem. "Well, all I know is you want t'watch yourself, maid. Ee gonna bring on tha babby like a slingshot! Reachin' an' draggin' an' pullin' laundry about!" Dem smiled a sunny grin. Prudie thought she had done the wash last night, not unheard of in Demelza's late trimester stubbornness. "Be all well an' good t'bring a new life in t'the world til it be swearin' like a fishwife an' gots two raspberries 'stead of proper eyes! Ee can't be mowin' through tha much ice cream however much ee think the babby be creenin' for un!" Prudie crossed her arms in a greater indignation. "An' took it straight from the tub like ee be raised in a barn!" Ross laughed. "Jeremy and I did the sheets last night, Prudie. We had to change the beds, there was nothing for it. We were too hot to sleep and we were all too sweaty." Dem said, primly, "And we all had ice cream, not just me. We ate it in those teacups," Prudie turned to see three teacups and three spoons on the dish drainer, washed clean and set to drain upside down. She turned and shook her head over them all. "Ee three be as mad as a bag o frogs!" They laughed. There was delight to be had in Prudie's scold and a happiness in their nighttime cavorting. She was as amused by their madcap as disgruntled. Prudie daubed her forehead in an amused defeat. The heat just would not shift. The Poldarks were incorrigible. "If'n ee be full up of ice cream an' slep' through breakfast wha d'ee expect t'eat now?" They did, all three, blink beseechingly at Prudie, grufflers all. "Lord above, sit down with ee, go on..." Ross sat down. Breakfast was served.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do You Want To Know A Secret?, The Beatles 1963
> 
> You'll never know how much I really love you  
> You'll never know how much I really care
> 
> Listen, do you want to know a secret?  
> Do you promise not to tell?  
> Whoa-oh-oh, closer  
> Let me whisper in your ear  
> Say the words you long to hear  
> I'm in love with you, ooh
> 
> Listen (doo da do), do you want to know a secret? (doo da do)  
> Do you promise not to tell? (doo da do)  
> Whoa-oh-oh, closer (doo da do)  
> Let me whisper in your ear (doo da do)  
> Say the words you long to hear  
> I'm in love with you, ooh
> 
> I've known a secret for a week or two  
> Nobody knows, just we two
> 
> Listen (doo da do), do you want to know a secret? (doo da do)  
> Do you promise not to tell? (doo da do)  
> Whoa-oh-oh, closer (doo da do)  
> Let me whisper in your ear (doo da do)  
> Say the words you long to hear  
> I'm in love with you, ooh, ooh, ooh


	5. Golden Road To Unlimited Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 of Hotel California  
> Parties Ross and Dem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Dem in Los Angeles

"Why have a swimming pool if no one uses it?" said Ross looking down at it from their room. Dem shrugged, even as she was lying supine on the bed. "It's the middle of the night. Why should the pool be open now? They had a lifeguard. Maybe they can't have it open with no lifeguards." She lay across the bed excited to go shopping with Caroline tomorrow. Ross closed the curtain and turned to watch Dem loll about on the bed. She stretched and crossed her legs. She had a contented, dreamy look on her face. The warm weather and glamour, so different to England or New York gave an enjoyable sense of newness. That sense of newness of their surroundings freed Ross and Dem to regain the playfulness they had known when they first became lovers. Before the children, before the heartache, before Ross' period of ruin that so strained things between them. They set their feet on a golden road. A path back to the beginnings of things. He was sure Dem felt the same, felt it too. She looked at Ross the way she used to. He adored it. Ross smiled. A fancy struck him and he would heed it. "Dem," She turned her head to look at him. "Get your swimsuit..." He watched her. He was enchanted anew. She pushed a stray curl of hair from her eyes. "But Ross! The pool is closed!" He grinned. "All the better."

After a bit of needling they stole down quietly to the pool using the stairs. The door to the pool was locked but a second door, perhaps used by staff of the hotel was unlocked and unattended. Ross led Dem by the hand. She wore her bikini and a cotton tunic with the silly sort of flip flops, thonged sandals that were so prevalent over here. Ross had canvas plimsolls with no socks and swim trunks with the plain black tee shirt he had worn during the day. "Shhhhh... " he raised one eyebrow and placed one finger to his lips. She giggled and he gave her a kiss on the mouth. They stood at the edge of the entrance with the pool beyond and enjoyed the spontaneity of it. They gave each other a knowing look of happiness. They walked towards the pool. The chaise lounge chairs that surrounded the pool were placed in a stack at the far side. There was a rustle of leaves in the tall trees, heard but unseen. It was a clear night. Not many stars in the sky. Too many bright lights to see as many stars as nighttime sky at Nampara. One expected the denizens of Los Angeles believed the stars who walked among them in this industry town were sufficient. It was a clear night and they were breaking the rules. The frisson of knowing they might get caught made Ross merry and mischievous. Dem was drawn into his mood and they laughed gently as they approached the steps to the shallow end. Dem took off the tunic. She often swam covered up when she was away from home. Dem was still little self conscious of the scars on her back, less of a concern at Nampara with only Ross to see. They were faint but visible up close. It was night and just Ross. She caught the lightheartedness of Ross' idea and slipped her feet out of her wonky foam sandals. She set the tunic next to them, poolside, and stood up to face Ross, smiling. In the ambient light from the walls of the building, Ross drank in the sight of his Dem in a red bikini, bright in the daylight but maroon to some degree in what little light there was. She was as slender and lithe as she ever was even after three children. Her hair framed her face and shoulders and her navel begged for a kiss. She was smiling. "Your turn." she whispered. Ross could hear her smile in her whisper. He smiled and took off his shirt laying it next to his shoes and then, with a devilish grin, took off the trunks. "Ross!" whisper Dem, eyes wide and her smile widening like a flower blooming. She put both hands over her mouth, wanting to laugh. He stepped into the pool, entirely naked and swam in the dark water to the middle of the pool. What light there was made glints on the water and the pool tiles seemed bright as the water and Ross' silhouette were dark. Ross ducked down and then emerged, careful not to splash loudly. Smiling. Small glints in his eyes, shaking his wet hair about, eyes flashing with warmth and humor. Dem stepped forward in the steps under the water on the shallow side. "Ross!" she whispered, "You're mad!" Ross swam back to her. She couldn't help but admire him. Ross was beautiful and as at home in the water as on land. Ross was near enough to stand, waist submerged in the shallow end. He smiled and whispered, "I dare you!" "No Ross," whispered Dem with a giggle. "Anyone could see!" Ross stepped forward, stepped towards her and his groin left the water. They giggled. Ross tilted his chin up, grinning. If anyone could see so be it... He laughed quietly and swam back to the deeper end. He tread water and waited to see if Dem would take his challenge. She did not. She swam towards him and they met at the deep end. Ross kissed her nose and whispered "Fraidy cat!" Dem giggled and splashed him gently. They tried not to make too much noise. They darted about, chased, teased each other. Ross backed her into the deep corner and she wrapped her legs around him as he held the edge of the pool and kissed her. Pecked at her neck and shoulders, whispered promises of what would occur when they returned to their room. He released her and watched as she swam back to the steps. Dem was charmed but she knew Ross was playing with fire. She pulled his swim trunks in with her from the side of the pool. At the very least Ross would not exit the pool as naked as he went in. He swam to the shallow side. They were by the steps. They stood taller than the water and he walked Dem backwards against the wall of the pool. He raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'What shall we do now...?' Dem giggled forward into a kiss. She kissed him and he growled into her mouth as she put her arms around Ross, trunks set back next to them by the side of the pool. The night was warm around them, trees rustled in the breeze and a faint hums of cars going to wherever they were going. Ross tilted his head at a pivot and kissed her more deeply. They kissed hungrily. Dem pulled one of the straps of her top down to offer a breast to Ross and he circled the nipple with his finger before he ducked down to kiss it greedily. Dem threw back her head in the enjoyment of his attentions and clutched his backside with her hands. He growled against her. Ross whispered, breathlessly as he kissed his way back to her mouth. "We should take this upstairs..." He slanted his mouth over hers as she wriggled the strap back up. She grinned out of the kiss as they smiled into each others eyes. "You are incorrigible!" she grinned. She kissed his nose and handed him his trunks. They looked at each other fondly as he put them on, the strange mixture of desire and affection for which there is no substitute. "And you love me for it!" whispered Ross. Dem's smile gave her answer. They left the pool and dried themselves as best they could for they only brought one towel that soon became too wet to be helpful. They dressed and crept back to their room by the stairs rather than the elevators.

Dem woke pleasantly relaxed and stretched. Arms, legs, toes, stretched in a lovely pull of all her muscles as she lay in bed. Ross had already gotten up. He was in the bathroom. She turned to look at him as she arranged the sheet back over herself. Ross could see her in the mirror he was using to shave. It could tilt on a hinge and he amused himself by watching her, half finished shaving. He called out, "Just because I'm shaving doesn't mean to say I'm finished with you!" Dem could just see Ross at the bathroom beyond the bed. He was in naught but a tightly wrapped towel at his waist. She could see he was angling the mirror back and forth. He could see her it seemed. "Oh really?" asked Dem willing to play a little, tease a little. She began to roll about the bed, wrap herself in the white sheet of the bed peeked over the edge of the hem covering even her nose. Ross knit his brows. Rather than expose herself Dem had wound herself like a cocoon or a mummy. Two bright green eyes looked over the edge of the sheet and under her red hair. Dem blinked a mischief she could tell was working because Ross had worked the mirror into a position that showed her to good effect. He was stock still, the razor poised but forgotten in his hand. She purred. Her legs rubbed against each other under the sheets they roiled suggestively. Ross watched. Her arm had pulled free and she stared forward guilessly. She might have been alone in the room. Ross might not have been there. She stared forward like a trance pulled the sheet down to free her mouth and sucked on her forefinger. Ross set the razor down on the counter, face still frosted on one side with soap and turned to watch her properly at the door. She lay with a finger in her mouth and he watched slack jawed as it slipped free of her lips and disappeared beneath the sheet as she rolled to lay on her back, The surface of the sheets around Dem undulated. That which was her breasts, her legs, her hand discernable within her wrappings. Ross watched her hand travel lower, still and then a contented sigh escape her lips as her face emerged from the top of the sheets and she watched him watch her. He stared at her as hand began moving under the sheet. Ross groped blindly for a towel, turned to grab a towel and rub the soap from his face. He approached the bed. He stood over her as she watched him watching the movement of her hand under the sheet. He stood over her, lay his hand over hers. He felt her moving. They stared at each other. She was touching herself and all remained unseen. Ross' lips were parted and he stared. She watched his groin and it made him even more aroused. The things she does to me... He had a towel tucked around his waist. Ross pulled it free and it fell to the floor. Ready should his lady require assistance. Dem watched him. Ross sat gingerly on the bed, watching the sheets secreting what was so obvious. He lay a hand on top of hers, still moving. He imagined the moistened fingertip beneath his hand, imagined turning it aside and... Ross' hand was a gentle weight upon hers as she continued, steadily stroking herself. He was aroused, feeling her movements with his hand and sat watching her in a trance. She was making him excited. That was making her excited. Ross was torn between wanting to see her response as she finished in truth or take over, free her from the sheets and love her there and then, either choice having strong erotic potential. She was wrapped up in sheets like a mummy, dreamy and dazed looking in her occupation and made irresistible there by. "Are you close?" asked Ross. She fluttered her eyelashes, half in jest but also pleasure. Wanting to tease him and nearing the end in a sudden acceleration. The ghost weight of Ross' hand resting on top of her own, his dark sounding whisper was more arousing somehow. "Yes..." Dem closed her eyes gave a throaty little groan. She opened them suddenly because Ross' hand had vanished. He began to crawl upon the bed. Kissing her neck as he pulled at the sheets. She was so rolled within them he struggled to undo her. She arched her chin giggling, giving him better access to her neck. Ross was excited by the race to release Dem before she came by herself. She was laughing and he could feel her knuckles beneath his groin. "So close..." she whispered. "Oh!" A throb. Ross watched her face. He watched her pleasure and dragged the sheets away, part of the sheet ripping as he did so. Poised over Dem, nude and a blush of pleasure making her skin glow. "You..." breathed Ross as he pushed her legs apart. 

The phone rang. They woke with a start. Ross fumbled with the receiver before he could get it to his ear. "Hello?" Dem yawned and turned to look at the clock. 9:23. "Good morning. Ah Caroline..." Dem worked to sit up and in a sudden change of mind utilized her left hand to request the receiver to Ross' amusement. "Here she is, one moment," said Ross. "Good morning, Caroline! Yes. Yes, I'll meet you in the lobby or your room? O.K. I'll see you in a bit!" Dem handed Ross the phone and he placed the receiver back in the cradle. They enjoyed a small peck of a kiss. "Good morning, Dem." smiled Ross. "Good morning! I must fly! I must wash and dress and wear my brand new shoes and go shopping with Caroline!" smiled Dem pleased to think of the day's itinerary. Ross raised an eyebrow. "Another day in the salt mines..." Dem laughed at his neck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Golden Road To Unlimited Devotion, The Grateful Dead 1967
> 
> See that girl, barefootin' along,  
> Whistlin' and singin', she's a carryin' on.  
> There's laughing in her eyes, dancing in her feet,  
> She's a neon-light diamond and she can live on the street.
> 
> Hey hey, hey, oh, by the way, come and (party every day)  
> Hey hey, hey, oh, by the way, come and (party every day)
> 
> Well everybody's dancin' in a ring around the sun  
> Nobody's finished, we ain't even begun.  
> So take off your shoes, child, and take off your hat.  
> Try on your wings and find our where it's at.
> 
> Hey hey, hey, come (party every day)  
> Hey hey, hey, come (party every day)
> 
> Take a vacation, fall out for a while,  
> Summer's comin' in, and it's goin' outa style.  
> Well lite up smokin' buddy, have yourself a ball.  
> Cause your mother's down in Memphis, won't be back 'till the fall.
> 
> Hey hey, hey, come right away  
> Come and join the (party every day)
> 
> Hey hey, hey, come right away  
> Come and join the (party every day)
> 
> Hey hey, hey, come right away  
> Come and join the (party every day)
> 
> Hey hey, hey, come right away  
> Come and join the (party every day)


	6. Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 17 of Candy and A Currant Bun  
> Snow Queen Ross and Dem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dem is assisted by Ross in getting the sheets off the clothesline in a sudden storm but now they are soaked with rain...

Ross heard the thunder clap, and went to the gate. He saw Dem, rushing to unpin the garments that were hanging on the line in front of the sheets. Hands flying about the line, just visible behind the sheets, pulling the pins off and tossing the clothes in the basket. She rushed indoors with the basket as heavy raindrops began to pelt against everything. Ross came through to help her. To start taking down the sheets that were being rained upon. She came back out to see Ross' boots beneath one of the sheets before the sheet vanished into his hands like a magic trick and he smiled, even as the warm rain fell on them. "Oh, thank you, Ross!" He laughed. "It will go quicker with two!" There were four sheets and, while they did make quick work of them, the rain was heavy and the job left them both soaked. Ross followed her into he house and left his wet boots by the gatedoor, so he would not wet the floor more than necessary. 

Prudie, always prepared, had two lines strung at the ceiling, indoors. Dem hung the wet sheets with Ross' assistance. He teased her by peeking around the side and stealing a peck on the cheek. Her laugh of surprise tinkled merrily. Ross smiled. His forelock fell forward, even as it was wet. He pushed it out of his eyes. "We look like we fell in the lake!" chuckled Ross, running a hand through his wet hair. "We can hang your shirt, it won't take long to dry out..." said Dem. Ross wasn't paying attention. He was charmed looking at the crescent shaped prints of Dem's wet feet on the wood of the floor. "Ross!" He looked to her, "Sorry" he smiled. "I was distracted..." His bare toe, dry, swept over a footprint of hers. She giggled to see them. "Not just my feet, I have to get a dry dress..." She "felt" the thought, not just "thought" the thought. A bad thought...even as she said it aloud. "Prudie is at a friend's house, she'll dine there too..." Ross' face was the sort of face that belied his feelings. One could see how he felt about things in his face. Dem could see him take in this information. "Oh...?" he asked. The nonchalance in it poisoned by the grin that was forming across his face. "Oh, yes..." blinked Dem, innocence shot with mischief. "I shouldn't think she'll be back until seven or eight..." It was mid afternoon. A loud thunder clap startled them both. It accentuated the fact that they were in agreement of the forming scheme. "I have to get a dry dress..." said Dem as she padded across the room to secure the front door and walked past Ross, though the house to go upstairs. Being the older of the two of them, it was perhaps Ross' solemn duty to point out the fact they should not do this. He should not follow the sweet little wet crescents, dotted with the prints of her toes through the house, up the steps and down the hallway to a part of the house he'd never, in the entire time he'd known Dem and Prudie set foot in. Ross had been allowed in Prudie's room, many times. Ross had never been in Dem's room. "Lay your shirt over the banister, Ross. It won't take long to dry." Ross did as he was bid and he knew there was no turning back because his hands were shaking from the anticipation. He lay it flat, over the hall banister and followed her disappearing footprints into her room.

A modest dressing table, a shade smaller than Prudie's. A cloam mug of flowers next to a jewel box, a broken comb, an unbroken comb, a hand mirror, faced down and and a brush. The mirror and brush were carved wood and matched. Dem so often broke her combs, the one that was kin to the others was long gone. Dem smiled as she looked at Ross, looking about the room trying to be casual about looking at her bed. Certainly not the first thing to notice...the combs are very interesting...Dem looked at Ross as if he was an apparition. They were standing here and her dress needed changing. They were standing here and Ross wore no shirt. Dem smiled. Ross had a look of longing, his eyes lit like lamps. Thunder startled them both again and they giggled. Yes. It is agreed. Dem began to undo her bodice and rid herself of the damp dress. Ross came closer. She stepped out of it. This was familiar territory. They swam so attired, him in just his breeches, her in her shift. In starlight, not in the grey filtered light of a rainy afternoon...in her room, by her bed. His breeches were damp but they knew not to play with fire. A dubious proof of chastity, but a true one, to lie in her bed with his breeches on...the dress was wet the sleeves of her shift were damp but the rest quite dry. Ross ducked his chin, grinning from ear to ear, "Dem?" She smiled, shyly. "Yes, Ross?" He worked to speak for his smile was too wide. "May I escort you to your bed?" They shared a knowing look. "Yes, please!" He extended his hand, as if to walk her. "M'lady..." She looked at him, they shared smiles that held a tantalizing mixture of bashfulness and arousal. She walked the scant three steps and climbed upon her bed, crawling over to give Ross room and looking very appealing. She grinned, eyes bright, and mirroring the same excitement. She sat up on her knees and that was that. Ross dived in and they proceeded to roll around like Ebb and Flow, playing in their basket.

Ross and Dem kissed ravenously, in part to forestall the fact that they both could intuit that the game was about to change. Dramatically. Ross' head was spinning. The bed was soft and scented with Dem, he was entirely surrounded by Dem. She was kissing him passionately, with her arms around him, in her bed. "Oh god, Dem..." She giggled her pretty laugh and he groaned as he kissed her again. "Dem..." Ross meant to ask her if he might kiss her elsewhere, but Dem stunned him into enraptured silence by choosing to start kissing his neck of her own accord. He closed his eyes and lay in her bed and she took it upon herself to explore the new landscape. Licking his nipples with her tongue was a success it seemed. Ross seemed to like that a great deal. Nipping the tiny buds of them with her teeth also seemed to please him. She smiled into his eyes as he seemed hazed from desire and putty in her hands. "You like that?" He nodded, vigorously. She smiled over him like a benevolent goddess. She giggled and kissed his neck again. Her hair fell against his face and Ross wondered if he might faint from happiness. She sat up and looked at him. This was also familiar. She had tickled Ross when they were younger, until Prudie told Dem it was not allowed. She sat astride Ross and tickled him until he was out of breath. "I could tickle you an..." She froze. Ross' cock twitched beneath her. The shift was thin enough as to be next to nothing between them and, in his excited state, his breeches might as well have been nothing. Ross sighed. "Dem, oh god, Dem..." He grasped her hips and they ground against each other. Each of them finding a pleasure in it that bordered on alarming. They scrunched their eyes shut from the sensation. Ross spoke that way, eyes shut, slack jawed, sounding anguished. "Dem! I want to kiss you Dem!" She groaned, she bent forward to kiss his mouth. "No, Dem! No," He sighed as if he might expire. "I want... to kiss you somewhere else..."

Prudie had meant to sup with her neighbor, but she had a touch of cold. They had a nice tea, for Prudie would wait out the rainstorm, and promised each other they would dine at another time. She unlocked the front door. She was pleased to see Dem had gotten the clothes off the line and hung the sheets in the house. She walked through and, at the point she might have called to Dem, saw Ross' boots by the gatedoor, on the floor. The house was silent. Prudie closed her eyes. She counted to ten, and then looked to the steps. She mounted the steps, as quietly as she could manage. Her eyes widened to see what was clearly Ross' shirt, draped over the banister. Prudie could hear nothing, she sighed. 'They's daft enough to fall asleep an' all...' She saw Demelza's door open and approached with stealth. She lay her head by the door jamb. Strangely, the first thing Prudie felt was sadness. 'Nay...naynaynaynay....don't be growin' up! Don't stop bein' m'little'uns...stay little grufflers oo 'old m'and an' eat cakes...' It was a selfish impulse, and a silly one, really. Ross and Dem were seventeen and sixteen, 'an' been a'kissin' on each other since before Ross went away to school...' she thought. Next, a swift appraisal of how much foolishness do go on... Dem was in her shift. Ross wore his breeches and, as he lay, they remained on, closed. He lay on his back with Dem curled next to him, their hair tangled about the bed and sleeping like they hadn't a care in the world. They would not. As far as they knew Prudie would not have come back until the evening. She went back downstairs. Usually, Prudie would cross the yard. She wanted the boots to lay as they were so she went out the front door and walked over to see Jud.

Prudie so often used the gate from the yard, Jud opened the front door expecting that it be someone else. She had a tight smile. He asked her in, curious to know her mood. He had seen her in many different moods and this one did not conform to any previous ones. Prudie swept in, turned to face him and said, in an undertone, "They's foolin' wi' each other..." His eyebrows raised. "Wha, now? They's o'er t'yourn?" She nodded. She lost her serious tone, briefly. "Aye," she gave a snort of a laugh. "They's up in 'er bed, sleepin'..." Jud struggled to word the next sentance. "They ain't, they ain't...?" "Nay, it be green, but it do seem more than foolishness... If'n they keep on like tha, they's gonna put two n' two together, afore long."

Ross woke with a sigh. Dem rolled over and smiled into his eyes. Sometimes, the best kisses aren't the wild, passionate ones. The tender kiss they shared upon waking was the sweetest they'd ever shared for it marked a new line, a new era. The dawn of pleasure. The kiss was soft and quiet and tasted of Dem. The days one strives to remember because it is only brand new once. They were shy. They'd entered a new, secret pact. She got up and dressed, taking the time to sear the image of Ross, lying in her bed, to memory. Ross looked at her as if she was the most wonderful girl in the world. He'd made her feel like the most wonderful girl in the world. Ross followed her downstairs, pulling his shirt from the banister, putting it on as he descended. He knelt to put his boots on and he kissed her once more before he crossed the yard to go home. "I love you..." he said, fervently. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. A deep, wonderful kiss that left him unsteady on his feet, briefly. "I love you..." said Demelza. He crossed the yard, humming with energy and charged with the excitement of having had a magic afternoon. The magic of loving, and being loved in return. Streaks of strangely colored purple and sulfur yellow clouds made wide bands across the sky as the rain left the area. Ross inhaled a deep satisfied breath. The wet air, freshened by the storm and charged with the musk of his lover. They remained virgin, but Dem was his lover now... Dem shut the top gate. She leaned against it and closed her eyes. The sudden vision of Ross in her bed. A smile crept across her face. She had a lover. With a happy sigh, she crossed into the parlor, to see if the sheets were dry. Dry enough to take down. She started from one side and, still brim full of happiness, sang to herself as she did so,

I suspicioned she was pretty

I suspicioned she was wed

My father telled me twas against the law.

I saw that she was coxy 

No loving here by proxy

As pretty a piece of mischief as never I saw

She folded the sheet and lay it on top of the clothes in the basket. She took the pin from the corner of the next sheet.

The nest was warm around us

No spouse came home and found us

Our youth it was as sweet as it was raw

As pretty a piece of mi...

As she took the other side of the sheet down, Dem revealed Prudie, sitting quietly in her armchair. She did not look amused.

Ross entered through the kitchen. "Hello, Jud..." Ross intended to spirit himself upstairs. He was not sure, after the afternoon's activities, he could bear close inspection. If he could still smell Dem's scent surely Jud could too, if he came too near. Jud came too near. Quickly and with purpose. Jud sighed as Ross shrank back a little. 'Foolishness indeed...' thought Jud. Ross blushed crimson for it was plain to see Jud knew all. "Master Ross," Ross swallowed. "Yes, Jud?" Jud frowned. "Ee needs t'tell me, man t'man, like. Ee didn't take wha weren't yourn? Dem be virgin still?" Ross' blush drained out of his face. He cleared his throat. "Yes, Jud. We didn't, I mean, I mean, I didn't..." Jud nodded. He seemed displeased but not angry. "Ee be a gentleman, if'n ee 'ave Dem's heart, tha d'mean ee 'ave her 'onor too. Ee guard 'er 'onor. Ee ain't to dis'onor 'er, Master Ross, ee needs t'keep 'er virgin pure." Ross swallowed again. They were still virgins, but purity had many levels. He and Dem spent the afternoon crashing through many different levels of indulgence that didn't feel pure at all...

"Yes, Jud."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clean, Depeche Mode 1990
> 
> Clean  
> The cleanest I've been  
> An end to the tears  
> And the in-between years  
> And the troubles I've seen  
> Now that I'm clean  
> You know what I mean  
> I've broken my fall  
> Put an end to it all  
> I've changed my routine  
> Now I'm clean  
> I don't understand  
> What destiny's planned  
> I'm starting to grasp  
> What is in my own hands  
> I don't claim to know  
> Where my holiness goes  
> I just know that I like  
> What is starting to show  
> Sometimes  
> Clean  
> The cleanest I've been  
> An end to the tears  
> And the in-between years  
> And the troubles I've seen  
> Now that I'm clean  
> You know what I mean  
> I've broken my fall  
> Put an end to it all  
> I've changed my routine  
> Now I'm clean  
> As years go by  
> All the feelings inside  
> Twist and they turn  
> As they ride with the tide  
> I don't advise  
> And I don't criticise  
> I just know what I like  
> With my own eyes  
> Sometimes  
> Clean  
> The cleanest I've been  
> An end to the tears  
> And the in-between years  
> And the troubles I've seen  
> Now that I'm clean  
> You know what I mean  
> I've broken my fall  
> Put an end to it all  
> I've changed my routine  
> Now I'm clean  
> Sometimes


	7. I Am Sixteen Going On Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 18 of Candy and A Currant Bun  
> Snow Queen Ross and Dem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currant Bun Ross' proposal of marriage

Prudie might have laughed had she not been so irritated. Dem stood before her, mouth agape, clutching the sheet to her bosom as she gasped in surprise. Stunned into silence as she had been singing to herself. Her hair was rumpled and the sudden blush that came upon her told a tale. It was Prudie's intention to smoke out the tale. Prudie asked, slowly, evenly, "Oo's fancy were it t'go to yer room?" Dem bit her bottom lip. She didn't dream Prudie might have returned early, the house seemed as quiet as when she and Ross when upstairs. "Mine, Prudie..." Prudie's eyebrows raised a fraction. "Did Ross ask ee to? Did 'e suggest it, like?" Dem looked guilty, twisted the sheet in her hands as she said. "No, Prudie...I told him you were out visiting...I told him my dress was wet, from the rain, and I would change out of it...I told him we wouldn't be caught cause you would be back late." Prudie sighed in consternation. Perhaps Dem was the ringleader. Dem did not behave as if she was defending Ross, pretending on his behalf, she took the responsibility for herself. If Ross cajoled her upstairs, the choice not hers, it would be a breach that Prudie would bar him over, their long friendship, cleaved. Prudie had true affection for Ross but Dem was her niece. She asked, "Ross, been pesterin' ee? Did 'e ask t'find a way t'do tha? Ross been tellin' ee t'look for a way t'do tha? Want t'get in yer bed?" Dem's mouth fell open. "No!" Prudie continued. "Ee wanted Ross upstairs? It be a fancy o yourn?" Dem looked at the strangled sheet in her hands. "Yes, Prudie. I told him that you were out on purpose. I wanted him to follow me. I wanted..." "Did ee know ee was gonna do tha? Waitin' on me t'go?" Dem gasped. "No, Prudie! I didn't! I swear! He helped me get the sheets into the house and hang them, cause of the rain! I didn't ask him in to, to... It, it just happened..." she finished, lamely. Prudie looked at her, sternly. Ross lay in her bed with his breeches done up but that in it self was not proof of chastity. "Demelza," Dem started shaking a little. The use of her full name signaled an arch seriousness. "Yes, Prudie?" Prudie was serious. "Tell me true, maid. Did 'e take yer virtue?" Dem blushed even redder, her eyes went wide. "No! No Prudie! We didn't! I didn't...we knew not to do... that! I just..." she considered what she was about to say. "I invited him in my room and we knew not to, not to..." Dem gulped the image of Ross pleasuring her with his mouth away, willed it away as she spoke. "We, we..." Prudie's eyebrow raised. "Ee was foolin' wi' each other?" Dem ducked her chin. Looked deeply embarrassed. "Y-yes, Prudie..." Prudie sighed. "Finish them sheets..." she said tersely. Prudie stood and went to the kitchen. Dem collapsed into the chair herself. She sat, the sheet in her lap, in a kind of terror. If Prudie decided that Ross could not be trusted she might stop them being friends! Dem folded the rest of the sheets and risked going into the kitchen. Prudie was sitting, seated at the table, deep in thought. "Prudie...?" Not a muscle moved as Prudie's eyes moved to see Dem in the doorway. "You ain't to see Ross till I tells ee it be fitty. Do ee hear?" Dem looked crestfallen. "Yes, Prudie." She continued. "If he come t'the gate or the yard, ee tells 'im 'e ain't allowed cause 'e went upstairs wi' ee when I be out o the 'ouse." Dem's lip trembled."Yes, Prudie."

It was a tense week. Saturday supper and Sunday lunch were cancelled. Prudie oversaw laundry in the yard and kept Dem indoors. Both Ross and Dem were aware that Jud and Prudie were occasionally in communication. Talking of them. Having been caught out in such an immediate manner made both Ross and Dem obedient. They made no attempt to see each other for fear that the hammer would fall on them permanently. By the second week, by Wednesday, it was agreed that Saturday's supper would not happen but Sunday lunch would resume. Jud, for his part, did not bring up the subject of the rainy day tryst with Ross again, other than to tell Ross they would have Sunday lunch again.

On Sunday, Jud and an extremely nervous Ross, called on their next door neighbors. Prudie greeted them. Dem was in the kitchen, preparing the meal. This left time for Ross, Jud and Prudie to sit in the parlor. Ross sat under the stern gaze of Prudie and Jud and waited. Prudie lifted her chin a fraction. "Master Ross?" Ross sat up a little straighter. "Yes, Prudie." "Ee be eighteen, come December?" Ross' eyes widened. "Yes, Ma'am." She looked serious, not the doting Prudie he'd come to know, be used to. "Ee be gettin' yer inheritance an' all?" Ross nodded. "Yes, Ma'am." She spoke in an even tone. "Master Paynter d'say ee ain't betrothed to no one." Ross' mouth fell open. "No, Prudie." The barest blush came to his cheeks. "Do ee need yer uncle's permission to marry?" Ross closed his eyes, opened them. Can it be...? "I do not need my need uncle's permission once I'm eighteen, Ma'am." He sat up a little more. "I will be of age with my own property and," his voice trembled, "I am free to marry who I chose." Prudie nodded. "You know why ee's been kept apart?" Ross blushed more. "Because I went to Dem's room... Ma'am..." Jud and Prudie noticed Ross squirm a little. "Aye. Dem d'say she invited ee, but ee shouldn't a done. Ee needs t'be fitty. Creepin' upstair, while I be out ain't proper." Ross pressed his lips together. "Yes, Prudie. I apologize, Ma'am." He looked to Jud, to see if he did right and Jud gave a subtle nod of his head. Prudie looked to Jud, who smiled a little. Ross could see Prudie, shifting back into the Prudie he was used to. "Master Paynter an' I d'think, tha, If'n ee ask Dem..." Ross shot up, like a human exclamation point, stood up out of his seat. His voice was a joyous whisper. "Prudie, Ma'am?! May I ask f-for Dem's hand?!" Prudie's lips twitched a smile. This boy in front of her had become very dear to her. "Aye, Master Ross. If'n she d'say 'aye', I'll permit ee t'wed when ee be eighteen." Ross' face was a picture of shock and happiness. "Now? Can I ask now?!" Prudie fought a laugh, 'No gurl wanna be asked t'wed o'er a cookin' pot...' she thought. Prudie stood, turned to smile at Jud, who was just as charmed, and then said, "Ee wait fer 'er on the lawn, lad. I'll send 'er out to ee." Ross hugged himself, excited. As Prudie went to go, Ross said in a conspiratorial hiss, "Prudie!" "Aye?" Ross could barely speak for his smile. "Tell her, 'King Arthur'." Prudie chuckled. "Eh?" Ross relaxed his body and made for the gate door, to go to the backs of their houses through their gate. "Tell her 'King Arthur'!"

Dem knew they were in some sort of serious discussion about their scandal. Her heart sank when she heard, what had to be, Ross rushing to leave by the gatedoor to the yard. Prudie must have told him he was no longer welcome. Would they still eat? Was Ross banished? Would they forever, live side by side and apart? Prudie came into the kitchen. "I'll finish things up here, luv. Ross be outside, waitin' to speak to ee. 'E said, 'King Arthur'" Dem's eyebrows raised. "Now?" Prudie smiled. "Aye, maid. Lunch will 'old."

King Arthur meant boots, for base, the boulder at the mouth of the woods was versatile. It was where they would pretend to pull the sword from the stone and one would knight the other with a stick. After much argument, they agreed to take turns. One would be King Arthur and one would be Merlin, and they would alternate, to be fair. She lay aside her apron, rinsed her face and hands, and after a moment's hesitation, tied her sweets pocket on. Playing in the woods meant the pocket knife was often handy. She laced her boots and went out. Ross was not in view. He must be on his way to base already. She did not hurry. Dem walked through the apple trees and debated taking the longer way. Prudie didn't seem cross so perhaps things were alright and Ross wanted to tell her what they had said out of earshot to Jud and Prudie. In the end, her curiosity made jumping the oak a sound idea so she prepared to get a good leap by running and winching her skirts up so her legs were freed. Ross couldn't even sit on base, he was too excited to sit still. He heard her land, having jumped the oak, and her footsteps coming nearer. He stood by base and watched her come closer. He smiled when he could see her sweets pocket. He had a stick, just in case she left it behind. He tossed it away and kneeled on one knee, knelt his head. Dem walked towards Ross, having surmised that she was Merlin because Ross was already kneeling, head bowed. Dem looked about. "Where's the sword?" Usually a stick was on the rock to knight the warrior. Ross did not raise his head. "Use your knife." Dem knit her brows but pulled the pocket knife from her sweets pocket and opened it. The knife had been Ross' and they had taken their oath to become blood brothers with it. Dem stood facing Ross, feet slightly apart, proud and regal, as Merlin the wizard should be and said, in a clear, lordly voice, "I, Merlin invested with the magical powers of Albion, declare Arthur Pendragon, a knight of Britain and its rightful king and liege lord!" She lay the flat of the pocketknife's blade on Ross' left shoulder and then his right. In a voice of high magic and authority Dem said, "Arise, Sir Knight!" Ross looked up at her. Smiled up at her and shook his head 'no'. Dem frowned. "Why?" He looked up at her. From this vantage point, her bright red hair was framed by the leaves of the trees around them and patches of blue sky. Britain can be a gloomy place, soaked with rain, cloudy days. When Ross thought of Dem, Ross recalled how beautiful nature could be. As if nature itself assembled itself to behave for her. He looked at her face. 'Please, please, PLEASE, let me get what I want. Please say 'yes'!...' he thought. "Because it is you who are Lionheart..." Dem was even more puzzled. Ross called her 'Lionheart', King Richard's name. That was Robin Hood. Ross was mixing up the games. Dem's mother's name had been Lyon. She did not realize Ross had ever misunderstood. He believed the name to be 'Lion'. He looked to her, his eyes seemed to shine with something else. "Demelza Lion Carne, blood brother, will you marry me?" Dem's mouth fell open and closed abruptly. She looked down upon Ross as he had ever been in their game, yet he was seventeen, hair as long and wild as when he was young, before school had taken him. Healed, able to laugh, able to set aside his demons, able to kiss her... She thought, 'If I could stop time, let it be now. Not when he asked me, not when I say 'yes'. Let it be now, in our woods, with the breeze rustling the trees, and Sunday lunch with Prudie and Jud a short walk away. With Ross looking up and me looking down at him and knowing that he loves me, and I love him...' Dem smiled. Ross' smile trebled. 'pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease...' thought Ross.

"Yes."

Too quick for thought, Ross stood and held her, lifted Dem and spun her about, laughing. She laughed as well, feeling the world around her spinning in concert and swirl with the beat of her heart, in the arms of her intended. He put her down. "Oh Dem! I'm the happiest man in the world!" She clung to him, not trusting herself to speak. She smiled into his eyes and he kissed her. Sealed with a kiss, no take backs, no crossed fingers, not a 'pie crust promise', easily made, easily broken. True. True blood brothers, destined to be man and wife. True love. Ross and Dem.

They walked home, to have their Sunday lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Am Sixteen Going On Seventeen, as performed by Daniel Truhitte and Charmian Carr 1965
> 
> You wait, little girl, on an empty stage  
> For fate to turn the light on  
> Your life, little girl, is an empty page  
> That men will want to write on  
> To write on  
> You are sixteen going on seventeen  
> Baby, it´s time to think  
> Better beware, be canny and careful  
> Baby, you´re on the brink  
> You are sixteen going on seventeen  
> Fellows will fall in line  
> Eager young lads and rogues and cads  
> Will offer you food and wine  
> Totally unprepared are you  
> To face a world of men  
> Timid and shy and scared are you  
> Of things beyond your ken  
> You need someone older and wiser  
> Telling you what to do  
> I am seventeen going on eighteen  
> I'll take care of you  
> I am sixteen going on seventeen  
> I know that I´m naive  
> Fellows I meet may tell me I´m sweet  
> And willingly I believe  
> I am sixteen going on seventeen  
> Innocent as a rose  
> Bachelor dandies, drinkers of brandies  
> What do I know of those  
> Totally unprepared am I  
> To face a world of men  
> Timid and shy and scared am I  
> Of things beyond my ken  
> I need someone older and wiser  
> Telling me what to do  
> You are seventeen going on eighteen  
> I'll depend on you


	8. Imagine Me Imagine You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 21 of Candy And A Currant Bun  
> Snow Queen Ross and Dem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After Ross' marriage proposal, Jud and Prudie allow Ross and Dem "bundling" on Friday Nights. Ross and Dem are given permission to sleep together in Dem's bed on Friday nights, having promised to retain their virginity until marriage. This is such a Friday.

Mistress Trelask, when told she would create a ball gown, just about fainted. A chance to dress a lady in the new styles she'd often dreamed over. A chance to use her larger pinking shears with the deep edge, for ruffles. A chance to whip up a flight of fancy, from high quality silk, on a well proportioned girl. Tall, slender, a bust of respectable size to her frame and red hair that shone like copper. Of course, madame! Please have a seat. Dem, Prudie and dressmaker poured over recent fashion plates and with Dem's excited input, decided on a robe à l'anglaise with a ruched bodice and sleeves that were close fitting at the arms and flounced with tiers of lace at the elbows. Mistress Trelask also knew a friend who could acquire two party masks from a London maker who studied his craft under a Venetian master. "They'd arrive just in the nick o time, if'n we order now..." One for a man, one for a woman and stringed, to avoid faffing about with a handled stick. Dem, thinking of Ebb and Flow scrabbling around Ross, seated on the floor as he smiled up at her, requested that they be cats. Once a gown was decided upon, underclothes, ribbons, a cloak with a fetching contrast against the gown and stockings were considered. Both the dressmaker and Prudie just about got on their knees and begged Dem to consider jewel toned greens and rich purples, for the sake of her vibrant colored hair. Dem was adamant, the dress must be red. The gown would be red, for Ross was her blood brother. With careful consideration, a deep, wondrous red silk was chosen, dark enough in some lights so as not to clash with her hair, bright enough in others to be a proper, unmistakable red. The shoes would match and Prudie, erring on the side of caution, insisted on three separate pairs of fine stockings. This so Dem could meet Ross' people on an equal footing with some in reserve should a pair become soiled. They were simple folk but Prudie wanted her niece kitted out proper for her first real ball. Nothing so grand happened here abouts. Dem would carry the honor of their village with her so it was a matter of great importance for Mistress Trelask to see her client sent forth at the height of elegance. Prudie and Dem floated home on a cloud. It was a fun and exciting afternoon.

They toiled at their tasks and met for tea each day. The week went by and, as day turns to night, Monday soon becomes Friday. Ross arrived and they sat with Prudie, talking in a more relaxed way. All three now used to the ritual of Friday. They bid her goodnight and they retired to Dem's room. A bright moon filtered a whitish, bluish light into the room. They blew out the candle and could still see each other well. A laziness between them tonight. The desperate lust, the immediate need was not necessary tonight. They had the night at their disposal, there was no rush. Dem lifted her arms up and blinked, coquettishly, Ross smiled and obliged her. He lifted the shift from her body, and lay it over his arm as they shared a quiet kiss. No hunger in it. A lazy kiss that said, 'Ah, just what I want at the end of the week...' They lay under the quilts, warm, naked. They spoke of all the things Ross wanted to show her when they went to Nampara. They spoke of how pretty the silks gleamed at the dress shop. "It's a pity the weather is cold. I would have liked to practice our steps in the Long Field..." said Ross, whispering into Dem's collarbone and planting a gentle kiss there. "Long Field?" asked Dem, nipping at Ross' ear and making him chuckle. He kissed her nose. "That's what Jud always called it. The field alongside the house. We can practice in the house. We can dance at the ball and I shall do my best to be a worthy partner." smiled Ross. Mrs. Kemp, charmed to have a boy and a girl as her pupils, had taught them dance steps. They would work at learning a dance at the end of the day, since they had sat for a length of time and enjoyed moving about before they ended the lesson. "One day," said Ross, dreamily, "I shall dance you down the Long Field... I shall dance with you under the summer moonlight..." Dem sighed. It was a nice idea to dream upon. To dance with your husband on your own land which, in some ways makes it your own moonlight too. She turned in the bed. "I wonder what new steps there are..." Dem threaded her leg between Ross' and they paused to blink the acknowledgement that Ross' body responded in concert. The warmth of the bed, the small shifts of movement between them. The dance of heartbeats and glances and soft friction that served to excite them as it gave way to exploring each other's pleasure. Ross pulled her closer, whispered, "I'm sure Francis can tell us, he's always up to date..." A deeper kiss. This bringing a bit more seriousness. They lay on their front side by side, faces facing each other, having succumbed to other pursuits and, for the moment, sated. "When we are married I shall be a wicked husband," said Ross. "I will be a tyrant and never let you wear your nightgown," He crinkled his eyes in humor. "You'll remove your shift and come to our bed naked. I shall demand it!" Dem laughed, the tinkling sort of laugh Ross liked best. "Mayhaps I'll be a wicked wife, and should not find that a hardship..." Dem smiled wider. "When we are married, I shall be wicked and never let you sleep!" They giggled together and rolled about to embrace and get comfortable. Dem stroked Ross' hair and they fell quiet. Abruptly, they woke. A first. They'd slept more than they played with each other. "Good morning, Dem..." Dem yawned. "How is it morning? I feel like we were just talking!" Ross chuckled. "Yes! I'm not sure we used our time to our advantage..." She laughed merrily.


	9. Wild Is The Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 41 of Candy and A Currant Bun  
> Snow Queen Ross and Dem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Demelza have recovered their health after suffering exposure to the elements after Dem rescued Ross from being kidnapped by the Snow Queen in Lapland. In their real world existence they both promised Jud and Prudie they would sleep in Dem's bed on Friday nights and keep their virginity. Father Christmas has allowed them special dispensation to break their bundling promise in his Christmas domain.

They stared at the rearrangement of the beds. The bedside table that lay between them was removed. The two beds were now one, huge bed. The coverlets and sheets were turned back and it stood before them like a vista of pleasure. A great deal of pleasure could be had in this huge bed... Ross and Dem turned to look at each other. The pretty nightshirts seemed to magnify their nudity underneath. Father Christmas said... They needed little prompting to race to the bed and jump in. Dem lay on her back with Ross not far behind, already putting their arms around each other and giggling themselves into ardent kisses. Ross kissed her neck and her face, Dem ducked her head to nip at his neck and he murmured his appreciation of her attention. He grabbed handfuls of her nightshirt, dragging it up out of the way. He shoved the sheets lower and put his mouth upon her as she writhed and sighed and spread her leg to the side to give him more room to pleasure her in a frantic, growling excitement. "Dem!" He pleaded inbetween these attentions. "I want to love you, Dem... I want to make love!" Ross kissed his way up Dem's body. "Do you want that, Dem?! Do you want to...ahhhh!" Dem dragged the hem of his shirt up and Ross came further up her body to feel her stroking him. He shut his eyes. His cock felt huge, felt shivering and desperate. He felt shivering and desperate. Dem touched Ross in a wanton manner, knowing he was being driven crazy from it. Knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He struggled to talk. "Dem, oh God Dem! I want you!" "Yes, Ross!" she lay back as he began to kiss her breasts. "Yes!" said Dem. "I want to make love!" she cried. "I want to feel you inside me, Ross!" She purred, prettily as he licked her breasts and Ross thought he might actually die if he didn't thrust into her. Their shirts were bunched up, leaving them exposed. Ross, with the somewhat endearing clumsiness of having the will but not quite the way, prodded at Dem too gently. It was becoming clear this was not for the faint of heart. Ross braced himself on one elbow and, tried to explain but was cut short by Dem giving him a messy kiss and the sensation of her hands clutching his backside. No explanation necessary, she was goading him to be merciless, to thrust forward with all his might. He did. Dem gasped. The strangest "POP!" Not a sound but a feeling. A sudden pain and the stretch of invasion. Ross fell forward upon her with a cry and buried his face in her neck and hair. With a gasp between them he drew back and pushed forth once more, back and forth. Back and forth. The pleasure was incredible and they moaned and sighed as he moved back and forth. Back and forth.

It was hot and wet. It was hard and soft. It was fierce and gentle. It was overwhelming. They felt the urge to struggle against each other and cling to each other. To cry out and sigh silence. Joy. Longing. Lust. A blistering hot need between them as they joined in love in this soft bed, this other world. A conflagration that, suddenly... stopped... A grand, celestial pause that set them both at one with the universe. Air, in the musk of their breath as they moaned. Earth, in the home of their bodies, joined in pleasure. Water, in the softness of their mouths, the sudden slick at the tip of Ross' cock, the soft wetness of Dem surrounding him. Fire in the heat of their desire, young and new, a sensation that fell over them both like a veil of joy. They came. Hard. The shadow of death. So much pleasure that one cries out for the protection of god. Too much pleasure, as if one might expire from it. Ross shuddered his last and draped over Dem as they gasped for air and Dem drew her legs around him. They lay, spent, and close enough to feel the others veins pulsing. They made love. They made love and it was wonderful. Having caught up with themselves, they stared at each other in a lovesick daze. They stroked each others hair, whispering ardent words of love and bestowing reverent kisses upon the other. They had found their divinity. This boy. This girl. The spark between them that could ignite and disappear. It disappeared. The only solution was to try again.

Morning brought a tangled scene of bedsheets, embroidered nightgowns, flesh and hair. She'd ridden astride him with a joyous smile, his milk teeth draped and gleaming over her breasts. He'd arched over her, from behind, both crying out like strange beasts in heat. They'd kissed themselves into a delirium and passed out from their exertions. They made the night their own. They woke slowly, warm, basking in each other's warmth. Cherishing each other in a sleepy snuggle of bodies and sheets, the nightgowns discarded across the bed and soft in the nest of feather mattress and warm covers as they settled closer. Ross kissed her and rolled over her again, for love must be renewed, one made love in increments, by degrees, in aggregate. Each new attempt deepening the previous and launching the next, and the next...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wild Is The Wind, David Bowie 1976
> 
> Love me, love me, love me, love me  
> Say you do  
> Let me fly away  
> With you  
> For my love is like  
> The wind  
> And wild is the wind  
> Wild is the wind  
> Give me more  
> Than one caress  
> Satisfy this  
> Hungriness  
> Let the wind  
> Blow through your heart  
> For wild is the wind  
> Wild is the wind  
> You  
> Touch me  
> I hear the sound  
> Of mandolins  
> You  
> Kiss me  
> With your kiss  
> My life begins  
> You're spring to me  
> All things  
> To me  
> Don't you know you're  
> Life itself  
> Like a leaf clings  
> To the tree  
> Oh my darling,  
> Cling to me  
> For we're like creatures  
> Of the wind  
> Wild is the wind  
> Wild is the wind  
> You  
> Touch me  
> I hear the sound  
> Of mandolins  
> You  
> Kiss me  
> With your kiss  
> My life begins  
> You're spring to me  
> All things  
> To me  
> Don't you know you're  
> Life itself  
> Like a leaf clings  
> To the tree  
> Oh my darling,  
> Cling to me  
> For we're like creatures  
> In the wind  
> And wild is the wind  
> Wild is the wind  
> Wild is the wind  
> Wild is the wind  
> Wild is the wind


	10. Let's Go To Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 46 of Because The Night(Or Two Homeless Buskers)  
> Hansel and Gretel Ross and Dem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strain and irritability is becoming the norm between Ross and Dem as they each resist their attraction to each other and life on the street becomes more difficult, but the dam must break.
> 
> Brose, is the Dutch artist who let Ross and Dem live in his Paris garret studio, looking after them and teaching them to draw. He is their "fairy godfather".

Dem walked along side Ross in silence. They finished eating in a cafe and walked back to their room, bundled up in their coats. They were back at Rue des Cannettes and Madame Albaret was as happy to see them as always. They had been less talkative recently. They had been grumpy recently. Getting back to Paris from Austria had taken weeks. Ross and Dem were often bickering over silly things. Much of the old gang still hung around the old haunts but life was getting in the way of their former good times. Too much drama had been introduced into the street. Palmier returned to open arms but distracted minds. Survival was harder now that they were older. The camaraderie sputtered in fits and starts. Everyone was busy in these cold weather days, trying to piece together the money to survive. Demelza looked to the younger rats with envy sometimes. They were still feeling the joy to be had in the sense of freedom, still young enough to tweak the noses of the flic and get away with it. Ross felt the punters were more distracted too. The takings from busking were just O.K. Perhaps people wanted to keep their fingers in their pockets in the cold weather. Perhaps Ross and Dem's bad moods were infiltrating their performances. Small escalations in the stiffening of their interactions had started occurring. They often slept back to back recently. They did not hold each other in their bed. Did not initiate it anymore. Now they didn't even face each other. They wished each other good morning and goodnight in a polite way. They talked in a desultory way sometimes not the cheerful chatter they had believed was their natural personalities. Part of it was fatigue from working all God's hours at Les Halles, carting and fetching in their fingerless gloves to build up more ready cash. Both of them occasionally annoyed at watching the spoiled rich people who thought nothing of buying expensive ingredients for their dinners. Thinking of how many weeks indoors you could have for the price of a steak or a bottle of wine. Ross and Dem came back to their room cold and tired. They spoke less and less. They drew less too. It was easier not to talk these days. They both struggled to remember who, exactly, pulled back first. They were not sure if they were to blame or the other but the breach was maintained in a spirit of stubbornness. 'If he wanted a hug he would hug me...' 'She'd hug me if she wanted to...' 'He's more grown up now, seventeen...' 'She's older, sixteen, of course she'd want more space...' It's strange to miss someone who remains right next to you. Ross glowered over his sketchbook watching Dem laughing with the Scottish guy. That backpacker that showed up in the cafes last week. Ross chided himself, 'Dem can speak to who she likes...', a kid nearby tittered, "That Malcolm might break the pastry!" suggesting that 'Palmier' would be broken. Ross' grumpy face made them laugh. Dem liked Malcolm, if nothing else, he was funny and made her laugh with conversation in English which was a treat. She looked over at Ross who averted his eyes back into his sketchbook. Ross looked grumbly. He was grumbly these days. She didn't grumble when that girl Margaret was hanging all over him the other week. Or if she did Ross didn't notice. Another girl had said, "Don't look now, that girl's going to break up the Palmier!" And the girls all laughed when Dem rolled her eyes. 'It wasn't like that...' she glowered. They showered apart these days. There was no reason to share anymore. There were other reasons for privacy as well. Both Dem and Ross had become more physically developed. The smaller breasts of Dem's younger age were larger, her figure more womanly. The dark hair on Ross' body seemed to triple in a blink. They preferred to have privacy. It was not so much that they did not want to be seen by the other. They each felt shy watching the other, shy that Ross might be caught staring at Dem. That Dem might be caught staring at Ross. Better to have privacy...

The room was dark. Ross returned from the bathroom down the hall. He set the glass and toothbrush on the small dresser among other their toiletries and odds and ends. Ross pulled off his jeans and came to his side of the bed to lay down in his shirt and underwear. Dem was similarly dressed. She still wore y front boys underwear and had her shirt on. The covers were redistributed as they resumed their positions, back to back. "Good night." She said, crisply. "Night..." said Ross dully. The silence was deafening. The squeak of the mattress springs sounded as Ross got comfortable and then silence. After about ten minutes Dem suddenly said, "I wonder what Brose is doing..." Ross opened his eyes in the dark. Light from the alley behind the building was slightly visible but not strong. A silhouette of Dem's form was seen as Ross turned to face her back. "I expect he's in his house doing a drawing..." said Ross, curious to wonder if that was so. He thought a little more. "Maybe he's reading a book, or something..." Dem sighed. "Ross?" She turned to face him. "Yes?" She was silent for a time. "When did we stop hugging?" Ross was struck dumb. "I don't know..." Ross sounded exasperated. "We just sort of... stopped..." he said with a little less aggravation. "You don't seem to want them anymore..." he said, quietly. "Neither do you..." said Dem a tenor of irritation in her voice. Ross remembered lying on a mattress in Brose's studio the first morning they woke there. They had kimonos around them and they had fallen away. They held each other naked but they were younger then. Dem's breasts were not large then. Ross regretted this line of thought. Thinking of Dem's younger breasts made him think of her current figure and that made his faithless traitor of a penis start roiling around. He turned away from her. Dem had mentioned Brose, trying to exorcise they sudden memory of kissing Ross' forehead the first morning they woke in Brose's studio. It was innocent and sweet but Dem was distracted into other thoughts. The kimonos had moved aside and Ross' held her close. She pressed her thighs together. She had no business thinking herself into excitement next to Ross. She was thinking bad thoughts... Another ten minutes went by. "Do you want a hug?" asked Dem. Ross had an erection. This was an extraordinary bad time for a hug. He did want one though. "Would you hold me, like this?" he asked. Dem knit her brow. "You mean with your back to me?" Ross seemed to curl up into himself. Rather than being alienating it seemed cute. He was curling up into a ball. Ross looked out into the dark, wishing to be in Dem's arms. "Would you hold me, Dem?" said Ross again. It had just left his mouth as she was already coming near. She was warm against his back and she put her arm over him. He held her hand. The pillow was soft under his head and he felt the warmth of her body at his back the cotton of their shirts up against each other and her breathing near the edge of his collar. It was lovely. "Thanks, Dem." he said. The sense of relief in Ross' voice made her stare forward at his back, his neck. Could she dare? She rested her forehead at his neck. "Ross?" He turned his head more towards her, still facing away bodily. "Do you think I'm pretty at all?" Ross smiled. Dem asked in a timid way, in a shy way. 'She should have no doubt about that...', thought Ross. Without hesitation he answered. "You are very pretty, Dem." Dem smiled. Ross answered with a tone in his voice that was tender, affectionate. Ross turned his head forward once more. He could feel her breath on his neck. "Prettier than some?" He giggled. She felt the warmth between their bodies, heard the squeak of the bed springs underneath them as he laughed. That made Dem happy. "Prettier than most!" and she could hear the smile in Ross' voice. She felt him squeeze her hand. He was still her friend... Would kissing him be wrong? He felt her hug him tighter. She was still his friend... Would it be bad to kiss her? "Dem?" He felt her nod. His cock felt like a piece of granite. He lost his nerve. To save face Ross said. "I like your hugs..." He fidgeted with her fingers he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. A peck on her hand. That was a bit like a kiss. They huffed a small amusement, a little laugh. Dem liked that he kissed her hand, just like that, no sense of hesitation. It was spontaneous and very sweet. "Ross?" She felt him nod, felt his breath on her hand. She felt an insistent sort of twinge at her groin. She felt it and whimpered a little. His hair fell away from his neck. Ross waited for her to say something. He stared into the dark room. Ross wanted to take Dem in his arms and kiss her. Her breath was warm at his neck. The room was dark. He stared ahead and wished for a portal that would bring him to the place in the distance where Dem sang. Be in that place. Have that love... 'Oh Sweetness...' he thought, 'If you let me be your man... I would never let you go...' He blinked into the dark. The wish to kiss Dem escalated to other wishes. The kimono fell away... they thought. Ross felt her kiss his neck. Her lips were soft. He groaned a little in the back of his throat. He could not stop himself he rolled over to face her "Dem, I..." He meant to speak, intended to speak. In an instant her mouth was upon his. Ross sighed, from surprise, in the grip of a spiking arc of lust that unleashed itself at the touch of Dem's tongue to his own and he kissed her with passion. A new feeling. A brush fire. Dem tasted toothpaste and the taste of Ross mouth. She opened her eyes briefly to realise that his erection was pressing against her. 'He...' The thought evaporated. Ross rolled over her and started kissing her face, her neck. She closed her eyes and felt Ross covering her face and neck with kisses. Only their knickers stood in the way of... She could not hold her tongue, could not stop saying, "Ross! Oh Ross I want you so!" Ross gasped as he aimed his lips at her collarbone and drew his hand down her thigh. "Dem, oh Sweetness!" cried Ross, unable to whisper in his rising excitement. Dem said she wanted him the way he wanted her. "I want you so badly! Ah!" She wriggled her hand into his underwear and Ross wasted no time doing the same. "Oh!" Dem felt Ross touching her. In the darkness of the room they could see a hint of each others' eyes, wide from excitement, from lust, from the astonished realization that they were both in the grips of the same ailment. The time for shyness had evaporated. They threw off the blankets, dragged off what little they were wearing and kissed, and touched and breathlessly pleaded their intentions, their pleasure and solemn pledges of love.

They made the man in the room next door bang on the wall. He thumped on the ajoining wall with his fist in irritation over the noise they were making. The springs of the bed squeaking like a trampoline, the headboard banging at the wall, the moaning, the shrieking. The man could be heard mimicking them, mocking their outbursts through the wall. "Dem! Dem! Shut up you whores! I'm trying to sleep!" Dem could not remain quiet. She cried out from her pleasure and brought her legs around Ross' waist. "Yes! Yes, Sweetness! Put your legs around me!!" Ross said in an anguished command. "Oh god! Oh god!!" "Oh god! Oh god! Shut up will you!?" said the voice next door. "Ahhhhhhh!" The reverberations of the bed springs died away in a chorus. The desperate need to catch their breath as they collapsed in a panting heap. The man thumped on the wall again, "Shut up you dirty fairies! You faggots are a goddamned disgrace! Shut up! I'm trying to sleep! Some of us have to work for a living!" Ross looked at the wall behind the headboard in surprise, remembering that people thought Dem was a boy. He fell back on the bed and laughed, as did Dem. They laughed with all their heart and soul. Ross brought the blankets over them both. They snuggled together like they used to, close and warm. And in love. Very much in love.

Out of respect for their neighbor, when they woke from their dozing, they pulled the bed away from the wall. The bed springs creaking could not be helped but the headboard would not bang against the wall. Their enthusiasm in their pleasure would have to be tempered. However good it felt to make love, they must make less noise. That was a matter of practice, certainly. They must learn to be circumspect by practicing more. They must practice more. It was the only way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's Go To Bed, The Cure 1982
> 
> Let me take your hand  
> I'm shaking like milk  
> Turning  
> Turning blue  
> All over the windows and the floors  
> Fires outside in the sky  
> Look as perfect as cats  
> The two of us  
> Together again  
> But it's just the same  
> A stupid game
> 
> But I don't care if you don't  
> And I don't feel if you don't  
> And I don't want it if you don't  
> And I won't say it  
> If you won't say it first
> 
> You think you're tired now  
> But wait until three  
> Laughing at the Christmas lights  
> You remember from December  
> All of this then back again  
> Another girl  
> Another name  
> Stay alive but stay the same  
> It's just the same  
> A stupid game
> 
> But I don't care if you don't  
> And I don't feel if you don't  
> And I don't want it if you don't  
> And I won't say it  
> If you won't say it first
> 
> You can't even see now  
> So you ask me the way  
> You wonder if it's real  
> Because it couldn't be rain  
> Through the right doorway  
> And into the white room  
> It used to be the dust that would lay here  
> When I came here alone
> 
> Doo doo doo doo  
> Doo doo doo doo  
> Let's go to bed


	11. Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 61 of Because The Night (Or Two Homeless Buskers)  
> Hansel and Gretel Ross and Dem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eden. Positano, Italy

Ross brought a bucket of water from the river up the hill, walking slowly to keep it from sloshing over the rim. The meadow grew wild in a kaleidoscope of flowers and grasses. Butterflies and bees entertained themselves among the plants and indulged the recently arrived stranger trudging up the hill in an attitude of tolerance. Ross was absorbed into this tucked away world by the other inhabitants winged or legged, large and small. Ross looked ahead to the back of the folly and stopped walking to watch Dem cast cracked corn to the chickens. She stood, slim and erect in a long denim skirt and a close fitting tee shirt. She scattered a handful of grain to the ground as the chickens pecked away at the food, happy for this snack as well as the buffet of insects they had constant access to. Her breasts showed through the shirt, a gentle nudge of her nipples protruding under the fabric. She no longer braided up her hair, tucking it into a cap or hat, to secret her gender. It surrounded her face like a halo. Ross stopped to watch her stand among their happy chickens and look so beautiful. Dem was forever beautiful but their new home allowed her to cease hiding herself from the casual eyes of others as a boy and it took Ross' breath away to see Sweetness anew. The prettiness in her movements as she lifted the hem of her long skirts to mount the ladder or step daintily from stone to stone near the swimming hole. The new freedom of her figure released from shapeless men's shirts. Last week they bought new clothes, a long overdue refeshing of their wardrobes. They both bought new jeans but they each picked out a set of nice clothes to wear should they need to look formal. Going to Maxim's and seeing all the well dressed people, being on the ship among well dressed people, made them want a bit of insurance. That they be able to polish up sufficient, should the need arise. Dem also bought girls clothes and it pleased them both. Dem liked wearing them and Ross liked seeing her in them. Ross sighed. She fit in his arms, just right, whatever she wore but these recent days, taking Dem in his arms, sinking his face in her hair, so little between them, so little effort needed to investigate what lay beneath her skirts... He fell in love anew each second of the day. She turned with a smile of contentment and saw Ross at the gentler slope of the meadow. He was watching her and it warmed her cheeks a little to realize it. A faint blush half bashful, half arousal colored her cheeks. She felt his stare. Felt his love, his lust, in the space between them. He was her man and he had claim to her body, claim to the love in her heart. A mutual arrangement that pleased her. She mirrored the awe and admiration he showed as he stood over the bucket of water watching the chickens scratch and peck, watching her... The trees in the distance framed a tall, strong young man, slender and muscular in his slim form. His jeans worn in from their travels and gave like a comfortable second skin a hint of his long legs and the beginnings of his lust stirring. Dem felt his love no less when she was dressed as a boy. She liked her time on the streets and having that freedom alongside Ross to be as free as a boy. He loved her in every guise. She dearly loved being a girl again, though. Some mixture of being newly wed and the novelty of returning to her feminine form had possessed them both these days. They had grown up together. They had seen each other in every possible state at close quarters, each incremental step of growing from child to youth to now as they stood; man, woman, in a gentle sunlight and green clad beauty of nature in a hidden away parcel of Italy that was theirs, by right of lease, for five years. They became lovers in a conflagration of mutual longing. Denied nothing to the other, laid bare and all defenses down. That had been ever so but being here, being married and living in their own home, no adjoining tenants threatening their irritation next door, no one to know or see. No one to secret their lusts from, changed things in enjoyable ways. He was now permitted to take her whenever he wanted, or almost whenever he wanted, for her skirts were laughably easy to wrest aside in spontaneous whim. She could to observe him in undress as they swam and bathed, claim her lust upon him and he relinquished himself to her in obedience, she could indulge her fancies, could pull all the rest of the clothes off him, and he made no move against her demands, he welcomed them at any opportunity; to claim her rights as a wife, to claim his rights as a husband. If they felt like being naked in their wanderings, clad only by the sky and nature around them, they did. They had been overtaken by passion in this place. The ridge of the hill at the blue sky speckled trees, near their home made her beautiful. The dark edge of the woods beyond the meadow made him beautiful. And she fed the chickens and he hauled the water... he lifted the bucket and she watched him lift as they had been taught at the grower compound. She admired his body as he was careful to spread his feet for purchase and spare his back. Ross stood and bore the water to their home with a naughty smile playing across his face. If she was a helpless damsel with only inattentive chickens to guard her then she had no proof against this man who crept towards her under the guise of water carrying but who eyes promised something else... He set down the water bucket. She patted her hands clean on her denim skirt and walked towards the meadow. The glance over her shoulder left no doubt. Ross followed his wife.

Garrick snuffled at Dem's face. She might have been dead for all the response this produced. He turned to Ross and licked at his forehead. At this Ross stirred and realized that the dog was panting in his ear. He blinked his eyes open to see Garrick standing over them in their post coital slumber, laying tangled in the grass of the meadow. Not entirely alone in their homestead. He chuckled which woke Dem as well as the pungent surprise of dog breath scented near. "Oh! Oh Garrick, you silly billy! Let me up!" Laughed Dem as Garrick barked "Good afternoon" and paced around them both as they rearranged their garments for modesty's sake in sight of their dog. Loggy, clothes askew, Ross dragging his jeans back up, still somewhat dreamy over Dem's enthusiasm as she barely allowed the jeans to leave his thighs before she mounted him with a sigh so delicious it could stop time. Dem pulling her shirt back on, with a shiver of remembrance at the speed and excitement of Ross divesting her of her tee shirt falling upon her breasts with a growl of desire, watching him stalking down the hill with single minded purpose, as if gathering water was simply a ruse to be near her. Garrick barked again and ran further down the hill. Ross helped Dem up and they followed, lazily plucking grass from each other's hair and clothing. Watching the dog romp about happily and bark occasionally as if reminding them to keep up. They walked with their dog awhile. Exploring the prettiness of their land, enjoying being as owned by this friendly dog as they now owned him. He made no threat to Tabitha Bethia or the chickens and seemed to like them all well. He was needy for love and they did not begrudge him. Didn't everyone just want to be loved and feel cared for? Ross and Dem, so often disappointed by life, felt renewed in their care for this gentle dog, their cat who deigned to share her lodgings with them. Responsible for three chickens who seemed to feel the lopsided coop they built, from odd cast offs of wood in the stables, was acceptable shelter. Dem ran forward to Garrick's delight and Ross slowed, to watch them play. 'Is that how we were...?' He watched Dem feint and dodge, Garrick changing direction to meet her and barking happily. Ross thought of himself and Dem, playing in the streets of Paris when they were newly on their own having left Brose. Madame Albaret let Ross leave his guitar safe at Rue des Cannettes and he ran the streets, unencumbered by having to keep hold of the case. The whole of the Latin Quarter had been their playground. Sometimes upwards of twenty rats played tag in the busy streets under the noses of all the workaday people cursing them as they came too near the ordinary folk who couldn't see the fun to be had. They cursed them as rats... Ross watched Dem play with Garrick. She who could make a friend of anyone. She was even barking back to the dog and Ross could see the excitement in the exchange. Garrick leapt up with glee 'talking' back to her as they grew further away and he could see them fall into a loving friendship. 'Is that what we looked like...?' he thought again. 'Was there ever a time that I did not feel love for Dem? Could it be seen to occur, year after year? Could people see it happening? Did I feel it happening? Was there any one day when that love became true or was it always there, growing each day...?' She turned suddenly, eyes bright as she looked to her husband in the meadow. "Come on slow poke!" And her happy laugh as Garrick barked his own admonishment at Ross and they ran forward towards the trees. Ross' heart swelled. To see Dem so happy, to see the dog so happy, to feel happy himself. To know that love, love for nature, love for animals, love for their eccentric home in this secret place, love for him... exuded from Dem like sunlight upon nature, upon the animals, upon their home, upon him ... He ran to catch them up. Across the meadow into the woods on a beautiful day with a new friend in this dog and his wife.

They took their time walking back to the folly. They, all three, played fetch and tossed a stick that Garrick returned to each of them in an enjoyment over having two friends to play with. Ross tacked a sheet to the mouth of the opening on the side of the folly. It served like the flap of a tent. They would finish it, they decided. They would build it to extend a little more and enclose it for an extra room. The placement of the stove meant they could have a snug, warm parlor in the cold of the winter. Have a home in truth. They entered through the door rather than the covered opening at the side. They entered their home through the front door and it pleased them. Mr. and Mrs. Poldark came in through the front door. Their front door.

Ross watched the original lady of the house, Tabitha Bethia, drag a captured mouse under the daybed to enjoy in privacy as he played guitar and Dem sketched him. The first of many images of them in their new home. They were grateful to Brose and took his admonishment that they continue to draw seriously. Daylight was fading. They promised themselves some oil lamps to have brighter light at night. More candles could be had, quite inexpensively. The thick glass votive candles, tall and short, were sold everywhere in the town and they burned safely in their glass columns, made to burn for days on end. They would save the fuel for nighttime and use the candles day and night. They were charmed at the novelty of needing things. Charmed by having money to purchase them. Charmed to have a place to put them. They had to buy things a little at a time because they could only carry so much at a time. Ross thought of the stables and the old tack hanging there. Old bridles and things that were too old to use. Much of the tools in the stables were old but in good condition to be used; shovels, a rake, a metal dustpan clearly meant to scoop up manure. Maybe buying a donkey or even a horse would help them bring things they needed up the valley. A bed might just fit at the far corner of the room... They could use the daybed more as it was meant to be, like a sofa. "We will bring back lamps and kerosene tomorrow, but we should look at the livestock yard we saw when we first arrived. We might find a donkey or a horse to help us get supplies up here." Dem's eyes widened. "Oh Ross! Could we!" Ross and Dem exchanged a bright smile. There was fun to be had shopping for their needs. "Yes! The stables look quite sound! And there is grass growing further on from here that will make for good hay. Plenty of grazing when the weather is fair and hay for the winter!" smiled Ross, "I'll teach you to ride, Dem! Whether a donkey or a horse it's not hard!" They sat in quiet happiness over this new plan. "We can bring a proper bed up here if we had a strong animal to help us." said Ross in a nonchalant manner. Dem blinked agreement. They did not have to discuss the niceties of what that entailed. Dem showed Ross her drawing to his praise and they went out to sit at the fountain bed. They had a loaf of good, rustic bread, a dry sausage that had been cut into coin like slices by the shopkeeper, and oranges that were red inside rather than orange. This was a merry surprise when they peeled them. A speckled maroon blush marking parts of the rind did not hint at the possibility of a dark red interior for the Poldarks. The rich flavor and crimson flesh, so dark against the pale pith of the fruit, brought a sigh of pleasure to them. Even the oranges were magical in Italy! As they came to love France in the beginning of their adventures, they came to love Italy. The tenor of each place was different with their own way of being. Ross and Dem sank into the rhythm of this new home in a new country with joy and satisfaction. They were part of this land in a more primal and immediate way here. The growers compound surrounded them in nature. The Paris streets were their home, a land of wonder and enchantment. But the hand of man was ever present in their life in France. The love they bore for Italy stemmed from feeling one with the place. At peace in the love of their strong friendship and recent wedding. Part of the land itself, living in this funny little house that someone before them had cared for deeply. Part of this wild canyon that allowed two lovers to enter and stay. To become part of the land and be as the animals here. Tending their nest, tending their mate like two birds in a bower. They found peace here. Contentment to be a part of the land and bring little change to it. Enclose their little folly, bring the garden to proper form. Live among the animals that were wild and have a happy family of domesticated ones. Tabitha Bethia straddled both worlds, a feral cat willing to welcome two feral children into her domain. She might have seen what Brose's cat, Mimi, had felt in them. Mimi might have marked her kittens and Tabitha Bethia accepted her feline approval of them. Sent her Parisian kittens into the world to charm famous Spanish artists and wild Italian cats alike. The chickens would give them eggs. Garrick was a new friend to them all. The trees rattled in the breeze. The sky was darkening. They washed their hands, their faces. They cleaned the plates and cups the had used. Flickers of light shone through the glass of the candles, moving within shadow upon the dry fountain bed and attracting moths that fluttered around adding stranger shadows. Not quite ready to turn in they walked round the back of the folly to climb the ladder and sit up on the roof. They had swept the roof clean and liked the light from the sun in the daytime. A candle or two might make a nice night's parlor, out in the night watching the stars. Masses more stars than either of them had even seen. No man made light dulled them here. The night sky was blue, not the black darkness of Paris or even Cornwall. Star lit blue with a haze of masses of stars in an endless path to the galaxies the eye could not see. Ross could see the edge of the meadow as night fell. The stars were so lovely. A flash of green light caught his eye. Another. "Sweetness! Look at that!" She stepped forward holding a tall votive candle and gasped. Garrick bound forward in a sense of adventure. The meadow beyond was being illuminated by fireflies. They bobbled about in the air, twenty, sixty, hundreds. They came forward from the woods and began to hover and play in the nighttime meadow as the Poldarks had done in the day. "Oh... How beautiful!" sighed Dem. With care, for it was dark. They scaled the ladder and Dem sat on the roof first. Ross left the candle he was holding on the roof and brought matches and another up. In the candlelight, near the bulbous decoration of the Persian looking dome Ross held Dem in quiet companionship, up on the roof, and awe as they watched the light of thousands of fireflies darting over the meadow in a private concert of light and sparks that hypnotized somewhat. Ross, dangled a foot over the roof's edge. Lay a lazy leg over the side of the roof with his wife in his arms. Dem curled close to her husband. His heart beat near her ear. She stared at the stars over the black ridge of the trees in the distance. She watched the fireflies play in the meadow. Ross' heart a gentle song to hear as the evening passed into night. The night was lit by insects, teasing and playing and loving as they seduced their mates and enjoyed each other's charms. This basic reason brought forth in their winking lights, that which was common among insects, among animals, among two newlyweds that sat content together on this calm spring night.

Garrick's silhouette could just be seen in the scattered green/yellow lights darting everywhere and he came to curl up by the ladder at the wall. Safe near his new friends who made the days so happy for him after so many hard times on the street trying to live and stay safe among humans that enjoyed bringing him harm. Garrick could sense that these humans had a greater sympathy. They saw his distress and helped him. Garrick had little cause to trust two legged creatures. He trusted these two though. They called him 'Garrick'. His name was 'Garrick'. That was nice. Having lived only as himself, having a name of his own made him feel very distinguished. The humans spoke to him by name and seemed happy to have his approval of it. The male, 'Ross', the female, a confusion over just what, exactly, her name was. Garrick heard the boy call her different names and she responded to all of them. He would pay more attention tomorrow. She was jolly fun and spoke like a puppy sometimes, just like a pup learning to yap, so sweet! Garrick felt it was only right to know her name. They were his friends. Garrick yawned and settled himself to sleep. Tabitha Bethia skittered past to go inside. Garrick opened one eye to watch her disappear around the corner. She was elusive, as cats often were. She would watch him from different vantage points, sizing him up perhaps but not antagonistic. She was polite. The cat did not seem to mind his arrival. Garrick closed his eye curled by the ladder for his friends were nearby. Curled by the wall for he knew he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic, The Police 1981
> 
> Though I've tried before to tell her  
> Of the feelings I have for her in my heart  
> Every time that I come near her  
> I just lose my nerve as I've done from the start
> 
> Every little thing she does is magic  
> Everything she do just turns me on  
> Even though my life before was tragic  
> Now I know my love for her goes on
> 
> Do I have to tell the story  
> Of a thousand rainy days since we first met?  
> It's a big enough umbrella  
> But it's always me that ends up getting wet
> 
> Every little thing she does is magic  
> Everything she do just turns me on  
> Even though my life before was tragic  
> Now I know my love for her goes on
> 
> I resolved to call her up  
> A thousand times a day  
> Ask her if she'll marry me  
> In some old fashioned way
> 
> But my silent fears have gripped me  
> Long before I reach the phone  
> Long before my tongue has tripped me  
> Must I always be alone
> 
> Every little thing she does is magic  
> Everything she do just turns me on  
> Even though my life before was tragic  
> Now I know my love for her goes on
> 
> Every little thing she does is magic  
> Everything she does just turns me on  
> Even though my life before was tragic  
> Now I know my love for her goes on
> 
> Every little thing she does is magic  
> Every little, every little, every little, every little  
> Every little thing she does is magic  
> Every little thing she does is magic
> 
> Everything she does just turns me on  
> Even though my life before was tragic  
> Now I know my love for her goes on
> 
> Everything she does just turns me on  
> Even though my life before was tragic  
> Now I know my love for her goes on and on.


	12. Bella Notte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 of Open Road  
> Hansel and Gretel Ross and Dem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After many adventures in Europe, Ross and Dem are settling at home in Nampara and introduce Jud and Prudie to some of the food they came to love in Italy.

_In town, Ross and Dem often bought their provisions in a little grocery just beyond the last stall of the outdoor market. When Dem had purchased enough clothes to dress as a girl on a regular basis the shopkeeper was startled to see the ruffian who accompanied the dark haired vagrant he'd often seen about transform into a startlingly pretty young lady and found an entertainment in watching the couple shop. They seemed to putter about looking at his wares, scrutinized with care for they could not read Italian. Looking for clues that they were buying the correct items.The pale green angel suggested baking powder as it balanced en pointe at the top of a sugar dusted cake. The happy woman preparing a hearty meal for her unseen family, in her apron and beatific smile showed which bag of flour was which. The blonde with her pasta, the brunette with her bread. The lady of mouse brown hair holding her cake aloft told of the flour's purpose. They would part to meander, look at things on their own and then spend time watching the other shop as if they could not believe their good fortune. That this dark haired lad looking at verdant, green bottles of olive oil could be her man. That this girl with a hair clip sparkling at her red hair as bright as her eyes surveying a packet of dried figs, pressed together in a circle like a secret, beige cloaked, cabal round a campfire, could be his woman. Then they would return to the other, meeting up like two birds on a tree, heads close to look at what they fancied. They had stars tattooed on their ring fingers like a pledge. That was strangely romantic. They winked at the eye as they pointed or held objects and when they payed for their choices. They were quiet in their movements and seemed to speak without talking at all. The boy would raise an eyebrow, the girl would nod agreement. The girl fluttered her wrist like a ballerina and the boy would retrieve what she had gestured to. They bought staple foods with the poetry of a prince and princess choosing magical tokens from a fairy's lair. They were fascinating to watch._

Ross and Dem were overjoyed to find a delicatessen in Truro with many imported goods from Italy they recognized from their time in Postiano. Dem carried high and did not waddle like an old duck quite yet, walking erect and animated scanning the shelves and wicker baskets of products and produce. Ross exclaimed to find the same cellophane wrapped blood oranges they'd enjoyed in Italy sitting dotted among a mass of unwrapped ones; the red printed wrappers marked with a clown in a carnival mask, the white, a fanciful scene one would want to walk through the wrapper and visit. A paradise of water fountains decorated with flowing haired maidens and mountains in the distance like the Poldarks' beloved valley and a plucky little swallow swooping across in a merry greeting. A third sort with a glamorous woman primly seated sideways on a Vespa scooter in her off the shoulder dress reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe and a repeat of oranges and lemons made ghostly in a strange halo of images off center, colours off center in a printing error. An register error that made the picture that much more interesting, a hyperreality in colours that were not real. Ross filled their basket with eight, taking happy care in only choosing wrapped ones. Dem added torrone, a slender package of almond candy and box of Ameretti biscuits, the pale, crisp cookies made with apricot kernels she came to enjoy at Lord Falmouth's villa. Mineral water was procured. Looking over the bottles of tomato sauce with care they chose the one that seemed to have the most visible evidence of basil leaves strewn through it and, with glee, secured a paper wrapped packet of spaghetti.

"Well ee should break un! They's too long! It'd be like tryin' t'eat shoelaces!"

Prudie was not well versed in Italian cuisine. Her suggestion, while duly noted was gently turned aside. "It IS a bit like trying to eat shoelaces!" laughed Dem, "but it works! You'll see. We learnt in Italy! You wind it round your fork!" Jud came to peer into the pot, the pasta just starting to bend in the boiling water, turning edible by degrees. It had been wrapped in glossy printed paper and kept the brace of it held firm as Dem pulled the end of it open and the stiff rods all slid into the stew pot, the largest pot of the Nampara kitchen. Now impressed upon by the boiling water and turning soft by degrees like a boat starting to take on water and sink. "Tha d'look like broom straws!" said Jud. "T'ain't right! It be droopin' in thur like it be meltin'!" Dem turned to smile at him as they viewed the bubbling pot. She blinked a cheerful encouragement to the older man. "You'll love it Jud! The taste is wonderful!" He eyed it warily. "I ain't learned 'bout them continental vittles! Don't look proper t'me! What be wrong wi' a good Cornish pie?" Ross entered having heard Jud's complaint. "Nothing at all Jud! But I'll not stand in the way of Dem's craving." Ross crinkled his eyes as he smiled. "The baby might want a taste of home!" Jud crossed his arms. "Yur missus be a British maid wi' a Cornish babby! Ee should be feedin' un starry gazy pie an' currant buns!" Ross and Dem laughed as Ross stood by her to give his missus and their friend a squeeze. Jud stepped back to give the lad room and he and Prudie admired the young couple standing at the stove. Dem with a proper bump beneath a light cotton dress embroidered in the Mexican style; blue and ringed with pretty flowers at the sleeves and around the neckline. Her hair was put up in a bun spiked in its place with a jaunty pencil and her face was a shade fuller making her as dear as a doll as she smiled near Ross' face. Ross in his perpetual garb of jeans and a tee shirt. He had been broken of his habit of prancing about half dressed with no shirt on like a bloomin' wrastler. Prudie, scandalized at Ross and Dem wandering about half dressed, "gadding about like them Tarzan films", put her foot down and demanded that the master of the house wear his shirts and lady of the house not putter about in naught but a blouse. She had brought the young couple into a greater daily formality than they often enjoyed in Positano and learned them to conduct themselves in a fitty manner. At this moment they looked as cute as could be, Master Ross with a happy smile at his wife's shoulder as they giggled over Jud's prescription. "There will be time enough for that, Jud. Time enough for that..." smiled Ross as he and Dem looked into to bubbling pot with anticipation. Ross lay the table with plates and cutlery and placed bottles of mineral water they'd bought in Truro along with the other Italian provisions and placed lit candles on the table like they used to at the folly. Dem and Ross were particularly goo goo eyed over this addition to their supper and Jud found it charming. He had not considered candles for ambience sake. They were useful when a power cut happened in emergencies. Prudie eyes glittered in the candlelight the soft flickering light made Jud's face seem a mite younger and reminded Prudie of the young man who courted her that many years back.

"It do smell nice!" said Prudie, surprised that it should be so. Jud could admit the scent of the spaghetti, in a steaming tangle, swathed in tomato sauce perfumed with basil on his plate did whet the appetite. The Paynter's were still a bit leery of just how to get the droopy long things into one's mouth without making a mess of one's self. To this end all four had napkins tucked beneath their chins; the Paynters in the anxious desire not to make a right mess of themselves, Dem because her bump was interfering with her capacity to lean forward at her plate and Ross in a sense of camaraderie and to make Jud and Prudie feel more at ease. As an authority on pasta eating Ross and Dem would demonstrate the technique of twirling one's fork. Jud looked askance at the bottles of water. "I ain't never thought I'd see the day when them grocers 'ad the cheek t'sell water in a bottle! Of all the foolish... Why'd ee pay good money fer water! Ee got a tap t'drink from!" said Jud looking at the mineral water disdainfully. Dem smiled a sunny grin. The candlelight flickered bright shadows through the water bottles, just like their meals at the folly. "When in Rome..." began Dem. Ross laughed. "Or Paris!" he chuckled. "Or Positano!" smiled Dem. Prudie looked between them. "We ought t'get one o them maps wi' the bitty flags ee stick in 'em! You lot be like Christopher Columbus!" Jud slapped his knee and they all had a right good laugh. Ross held his fork aloft, as if he were a magician proving he had no tricks up his sleeve and placed it upright in a tangle of spaghetti. Jud and Prudie watched carefully as Ross twirled the fork's handle and were struck with wonder that a perfectly sensible bite of the impossibly long spaghetti was wound round Ross' fork as pretty as you please, lifted neatly up for all to see. Dem smiled. "See! It behaves itself!" crowed Ross. At this the Paynters gave it a go. Timid, a bit of flopping, but a tidy bite of spaghetti was secured by both of them. It glistened with sauce and did smell quite tasty. Ross and Dem awaited Jud and Prudie's first taste of spaghetti with baited breath, looking encouraged and almost excited that Ross' dyed in the wool Cornish servants try their Italian dinner. Jud lifted his fork and waited for his wife. They would try this newfangled food together in the soft flickering candlelight that brought a shadow of their younger selves to each other somehow. The maid who made all the fellows wish she'd look their way and the lad who's smile was jaunty and confident that he would be the boy who dared to ask her out to the pictures. Old now, but that young lad and that young maid were still there, inside, in the candlelight. They smiled agreement, in for a penny... They ate their fork full of pasta. Ross and Dem tucked into theirs awaiting the Paynters' verdict. Was it too foreign for their older friends? "Oh!" said Prudie. "Tha do 'ave fine flavor!" She looked to her husband to see if he agreed. Jud chewed in a thoughtful way. "Aye, tha's good vittles... Different! But a good'un..." They looked surprised that it should be so but the Paynters did find spaghetti to be fitty. The Poldarks smiled their victory and they persuaded their friends to enjoy sliced bread toasted with butter melted upon it, flecks of bright green parsley and specks of proper garlic and the crisp freshness of the scandalous bottled mineral water.

It was a success. The Paynters enjoyed the meal and if the garlic bread was sharp enough to linger on the breath everyone else ate it too so there was no embarrassment in it. In a happy domesticity Prudie and Ross cleared the table of the plates and glasses, leaving the candles to give their light. Dem sat in a dreamy stupor of having had the food she most wanted with a satisfied hand resting on her bump and Jud, lothe to put on proper light when he might have ordinarily perused his newspaper as a digestive, not wanting to lose to ambiance of the candlelight, watched Prudie wash and Ross dry the dishes as the candles made a mystical confused replica of their movements on the ceiling and along the wall. Dem watched Jud watching Prudie. Admiring his wife. 'We shall be old one day,' thought Dem. 'I hope Ross still looks at me like that when we're old...' Jud was still smitten with his wife. They had not managed children but it was not such a hardship when they had a settled position within the Poldark home. The Mistress d'pass away an' young Master Claude. Joshua were a handful as a widower. Ross had been a tearaway, running about with them rascal Vigus boys. It had been a household shot with misfortune in truth. But Ross had come home and shed his wild ways, found a good maid to wed. Made good friends of people who chose to help them and their animals come home from their roaming ways. And proper titled personages an' all! Lord Falmouth's nephew ate Prudie's pie right in this kitchen, an' no airs on 'im! It was a pleasant night to watch Ross' wife sated with her continental supper, their babby set in 'er an' cute as a bug's ear. It was pleasant to watch Prudie washing up with young Master Ross talking of Italy. Talking of the other places in this wide world. He and Prudie weren't the traveling sort and that was not a hardship. Jud was pleased that Ross and his wife had seen a bit of the world and glad they were now in his beloved Cornwall. The place where he was born, where he would meet his reward, when the time came and the place he loved best for he ever had his Prudie by his side.

‘My sweetheart, come along! Don’t you hear the fond song, The sweet notes of the nightingale flow? Don’t you hear the fond tale Of the sweet nightingale, As she sings in those valleys below?So be not afraid To walk in the shade, Nor yet in those valleys below, Nor yet in those valleys below.

‘Pretty Prudence, don’t fail, For I’ll carry your pail, Safe home to your cot as we go; You shall hear the fond tale Of the sweet nightingale, As she sings in those valleys below.’ But she was afraid To walk in the shade, To walk in those valleys below, To walk in those valleys below.

‘Pray let me alone, I have hands of my own; Along with you I will not go, To hear the fond tale Of the sweet nightingale, As she sings in those valleys below; For I am afraid To walk in the shade, To walk in those valleys below, To walk in those valleys below.’

‘Pray sit yourself down With me on the ground, On this bank where sweet primroses grow; You shall hear the fond tale Of the sweet nightingale, As she sings in those valleys below; So be not afraid To walk in the shade, Nor yet in those valleys below, Nor yet in those valleys below.’

This couple agreed; They were married with speed, And soon to the church they did go. She was no more afraid For to walk in the shade, Nor yet in those valleys below: Nor to hear the fond tale Of the sweet nightingale, As she sung in those valleys below, As she sung in those valleys below.

Jud sang, in the candlelit kitchen as Prudie and Ross finished the dishes. Ross watched Prudie smile over her chore as Jud sang her given name within the old Cornish tune. Ross and Dem were too young to recognize the lyrics for what they were for all they were fond of poetry. Jud was teasing Prudie as any young man of their generation might. The girl was not being asked to listen to the nightingale's birdsong, the young man was asking to be her lover. Jud and Prudie had been those young lovers, retained the feelings of those two younger people but better somehow for the years had given their love a strength that brought them happiness to think upon. Ross dried the dish in his hand, charmed at Prudie's smile. A knowing smile that held a love for Jud made that much stronger by time. Ross smiled. He hoped Dem could smile so, when Dem sat pretty as a picture with a happy passel of children round her knees blinking up at her as Mama and him as Papa and later when they were quite old. Ross hoped Dem could still look as smitten at him as Prudie looked now, happy to be Jud's wife.

Ross caused a bit of mirth struggling to open the box of torrone. They flung out at the table like champagne flying free of its cork and skittered individually wrapped candies on the table like confetti at a party. The Paynters having taken the plunge to try spaghetti and garlic bread were less nervous to try the odd looking sweets with their tea. The brittle, rounded biscuits faced in pairs, two halves of a tiny globe, wrapped in their pastel, printed tissue paper, ends twisted in tufts like bon bons and a soft almond nougat, each cloaked in a grand little rectangular box of its own with portraits of lords and ladies printed upon them like a fairy story. The strange smoothness to the touch. The candies were poured on a wafer, smooth as window glass once it set, chalky white and sweet with sugared nougat studded with chunks of almond for hint of crunch. They littered the table with the easy scatter of a children's feast and they drank their tea and ate their sweets and admired one another in the candlelight. They had reached a balance this night. Ross and Dem were older, Jud and Prudie were younger and sitting in quiet companionship. Not master and servant, not age and beauty. They were men and women with no inequality between them for they were lovers and that love was evident, among them all. The Paynters in the shadow of their younger selves and the Poldarks at the start of things but dwelling in a second sight that they should grow older year by year in the security of their love.

A good meal in happy companionship. A cup of tea and a bite of something sweet. Having enjoyed both Ross offered the final refreshment of a blood orange to end the night. They all found amusement in unwrapping them like party favors. "My blessed Parliament! Will ee look at tha, Jud Paynter! It be red as the devil inside!" Jud's eyebrows raised to see hers, broken apart in her hands, then pulled apart his own. "Well I'll be!" said Jud looking at them all around the table with a sense of wonder. "I ain't never seen a red orange! An' these was in Truro?" asked Jud. Ross nodded, happily. The Paynters ate their blood oranges and were impressed at how they were like oranges dressed up for best in their vivid crimson, in their richer taste. The perfect end to the meal. A meal so nice one didn't mind a touch of garlic on one's breath or a faint scent of citrus lingering on ones fingertips. Nampara's kitchen had transformed itself into a candlelit cavern of wonders and a pleasant, beautiful night. The Paynters took their leave and the Poldarks watched them go from the window, Prudie on Jud's arm and a sweet peck of a kiss between them as he opened the car door for his wife and she thanked her husband for his chivalry. Ross put an arm around Dem. "I should hope to still be in love like that when we are old..." sighed Ross. Dem smiled. "I will if you will!" Ross laughed and kissed her nose. "It's a deal!" smiled Ross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bella Notte, or, Beautiful Night as sung by George Givot,1955
> 
> Oh this is the night  
> Its a beautiful night  
> And we call it Belle Notte  
> Look at the skies  
> They have stars in their eyes  
> On this lovely Belle Notte  
> Side by side  
> With your loved one  
> You'll find enchantment here  
> The night will weave its magic spell  
> When the one you love is near  
> Oh, this is the night  
> And the heavens are right  
> On this lovely Belle Notte  
> This is the night  
> Its a beautiful night  
> And we call it Belle Notte  
> Look at the skies  
> They have stars in their eyes  
> On this lovely Belle Notte  
> Side by side  
> With you're loved one  
> You'll find enchantment here  
> The night will weave its magic spell  
> When the one you love is near  
> Oh, this is the night  
> And the heavens are right  
> On this lovely Belle Notte

**Author's Note:**

> All The Love, Kate Bush
> 
> first time I died  
> Was in the arms of good friends of mine.  
> They kiss me with tears.  
> They hadn't been near me for years.  
> Say, why do it now  
> When I won't be around, I'm going out?
> 
> "We needed you  
> To love us too.  
> We wait for your move."
> 
> Only tragedy allows the release  
> Of love and grief never normally seen.  
> I didn't want to let them see me weep,  
> I didn't want to let them see me weak,  
> But I know I have shown  
> That I stand at the gates alone.
> 
> "I needed you  
> To love me too.  
> I wait for your move."
> 
> All the love, all the love,  
> All the love we should have given.  
> All the love, all the love,  
> All the love you could have given.  
> All the love, all the love,  
> All the love  
> ("Run for the hills")
> 
> The next time I dedicate  
> My life's work to the friends I make,  
> I give them what they want to hear.  
> They think I'm up to something weird  
> And up rears the head of fear in me.  
> So now when they ring  
> I get my machine to let them in.
> 
> "I needed you  
> To love me too.  
> I wait for your move."
> 
> All the love, all the love,  
> All the love you should have given.  
> All the love, all the love,  
> All the love we could have given.  
> All the love, all the love,  
> All the love
> 
> "Take care, tootle-ooh."  
> "Bye bye."  
> "Bye, so long now."  
> "Bye!"  
> "Later."  
> "Bye!"  
> "Cheerio."  
> "Bye!"  
> "Bye bye."  
> "Bye."  
> "Stay healthy."  
> "Bye-ee!"  
> "Bye."  
> "Cheers."  
> "See ya, love."  
> "Bye!"  
> "Good bye."  
> "I'll see ya, love."  
> "Good night."  
> "We needed you  
> To love us too.  
> We wait for your move."
> 
> The end of these lyrics were actual captured phone messages back when answering machines used miniature cassette tapes.


End file.
